Shown like the Sun
by emberlivi
Summary: The sun, the sand, the sea, and Sirius Black. Secrets brought to light. A sequel to Ebb and Flow.
1. Chapter One

**Standard disclaimer: **This story is based on characters created by JK Rowling. No money is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**AN**: Thank you so much for deciding to read this story. This is a continuation of the _Ebb and Flow _story, and although not necessary, I highly recommend reading it. I wouldn't want anyone confused or lost! This story continues where _Ebb and Flow_ ended, the summer before GoF. Will Althea forget about Remus? Will she accept Sirius? Will she accept herself? For when Althea confronts her past, things never go according to plan.

And yes, I have gone back and changed a few things in this story as well. I was never truly happy with the first few chapters and have edited them accordingly. Enjoy.

* * *

_Do your worst, get it all off your chest  
I'll hold my breath and swallow_

—_Shakespears Sister_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_You're a bloody fool_.

Althea sat across from Sirius in the entrance hall of her Bermuda home. His hopeful expression had faded. For almost thirteen years she had waited for this moment—to confront him about the circumstances of that Halloween night—but she sat before him a sobbing mess. _Yes, I love you_, she thought, wiping her eyes as Sirius stared at her strangely. _I love you, but I can't say it. I shouldn't say it_.

"Althea, I don't—"

"No," she said firmly and inhaled a deep breath. "No—just—don't—"

"I don't—"

"Don't touch me!" she shouted and covered her face with her hands—her tears collecting and trickling down the lines of her palms. "Just go," she murmured, refusing to remove her hands. "Just go!"

She could hear Sirius sigh and imagined him running his fingers through his hair, attempting to make sense of her answer. _He probably thinks I'm mad_, she thought, the tip of her nose wet from tears and the sweat of her hands. _You've lost your nerve. You're just as Gran predicted—a sobbing idiot_.

"I said go!" she shouted, quickly lowering her hands as she looked at him.

Disgusted with the situation and herself for remaining, Althea—determined—quickly walked the entrance hall, up the staircase, and to her bedroom—shutting the door with such force that the centuries old walls rattled, a portrait of her parents crashed to the wooden floor. She cringed at the sharp cracking sound of the breaking glass as it struck the floor, and wiped her eyes of new tears.

"Oh, no," she whimpered, looking at the shattered picture frame—large and small pieces of glass strewn about the floor.

_Look, look what he caused me to do_, she thought as she stooped to pick up the broken picture frame. She caressed the broken picture frame of her parents on their wedding day as they continued to smile and to laugh in the photograph. _I'll mend this later_, she thought, realizing her wand was downstairs. Sighing, she looked up at her door, knowing that Sirius remained where she left him. She did not want to retrieve her wand while Sirius lingered.

"Ow!" she yelped—quickly, but awkwardly pulling her hand back from the picture frame. The cut on her thumb stung and dully throbbed with pain, her blood bright red. "Bugger all," she muttered, examining her wound for small shards of glass.

Pressing her other thumb to the wounded thumb, Althea held out her hand as she quickly walked to the bathroom. Wrapping her thumb in a few pieces of toilet paper, she hastily searched for Silver's Swift Styptic Powder in the sink cupboard. _How could this day become worse_, she thought as she glanced at the toilet paper soaked through with her blood. _Where is it_? As she was about to growl in frustration, she found the jar of yellow powder behind a half empty shampoo bottle. Opening the jar, she sprinkled the yellow powder onto her thumb and yelped as the wound hissed and stung—the blood drying and sloughing off—her wound healed. She tossed the blood-soaked toilet paper into the dustbin and frowned as she stood.

"Bloody hell," she murmured, looking at her sink counter.

Sirius had arranged his things just as he did almost thirteen years ago—his toothbrush not in its proper place (no matter how much she had tried to convince him to do so) and the toothpaste, squeezed from the middle and opened—a small, blue glob dried onto her counter. Instinctively, Althea rolled her eyes, placed the toothbrush in its proper place, and recapped the toothpaste.

"Honestly, Sirius, I know the house-elf didn't recap your toothpaste—" she remarked and gasped, refusing to finish her remark on Sirius's laziness.

_God, I never thought I'd utter that remark again_, she thought, rubbing her forehead. _He'll never learn though—stop it! Stop reminiscing about Sirius! Look, he shows you no consideration even to this day_! Frustrated, she grabbed the jar of shaving cream, retracted her arm to throw it, but thought better of it. _I don't have my wand to clean that mess_, she thought, and slowly placed the jar onto the counter.

Althea sat on the edge of her bathtub and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing at her situation. Her eyes slowly scanned her bathroom and its robin egg blue tile as she tapped her fingers against the white, porcelain tub. Preparing himself for her? According to Remus, Sirius had spent the week preparing himself for her arrival. _As if a hair cut, clean teeth, and new clothes would allow me to take you back_, she thought, as she spotted his comb and brush on her sink counter. _No, you can do whatever you need to do to hide the fact that you escaped from Azkaban, but it does not hide the fact that I let you rot there_. She had done nothing. She should have forced her deposition on the Ministry instead of letting it remain in her dustbin; she should have fought for him. She knew him better than almost anyone—well, at least she _thought_ she did; Remus had proved how much she did not know. She had failed him and she believed she could never forgive herself for it. Why did she ever believe he could do those horrible things? _It made it easier to justify my hatred for myself_, she thought, taking his soap in her hands—her fingertips rubbing against the smooth, slippery bar. _His_ soap—the same brand of soap he used almost thirteen years ago. _I didn't realize they still made this soap_, she thought, and inhaled its spicy, warm scent. _I haven't had to buy it since he left_.

Althea frowned as she looked at the soap in her hand. "Stop it," she said firmly and tossed the bar of soap into the bathtub as she stood.

_You've spent almost thirteen years forcing yourself to hate him_, she thought as she stood in the doorway that led to her bedroom. _Now it is okay to love him_? Her eyes looked to her honey-colored, wooden dresser drawers open and full of his clothes—trousers, underpants, shirts, and robes. _Those are my drawers_, she thought, indignant that he would use her drawers. _He thinks that I'd willingly welcome him back! As if nothing has happened, as if all will be happy now that I know he's innocent. Those are_ my_ drawers not_ our _drawers_. In a huff, she collected his clothes from the drawers and threw them to the floor—one of his shirtsleeves falling across her foot. She violently kicked it off her foot and threw herself back onto her bed…her _unmade_ bed.

Althea covered her face with her hands and growled as she kicked her legs against the bed. _It's my bed, he has no right to it_, she thought, slamming her fists against the bed. _What else has he used_?

"He thinks he can come back and stay as if nothing ever happened…if a decade—" she said aloud as she looked toward her ceiling. "He uses my bath, my drawers, and sleeps in my bed—"

Althea caught her breath as she heard the deliberate footsteps of Sirius pass her bedroom door. _Don't you dare think of knocking_, she thought, lifting herself onto her elbows. She heard Sirius loudly sigh.

"Oh, Moony," Sirius said guiltily. "Here, let me help you."

_He's a thirty-four-year-old man, and you still call him Moony_, she thought, frowning as she listened closely. _He's not fifteen_.

"Thanks, Padfoot."

Althea threw her head back. _Padfoot? Nothing has changed between them_, she thought, lifting her head. _How can that be_?

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just a bit of a headache," Remus answered and laughed uncomfortably.

"Sorry, mate."

"No, no," Remus replied and Althea heard them walking toward her door. "I should have warned her before—"

"I know her, she would never have come."

_Know me? You don't know me_, she thought, narrowing her eyes at the door.

"Oh, how this was planned!" she whispered heatedly and stuck out her tongue.

"God, she's beautiful," Sirius said and sighed. "Call me mad, but I need her back."

"I wouldn't dare."

"I still love her," Sirius said plainly.

Althea caught her breath as her stomach twisted upon itself. _Sirius still loves me? After all that has happened—that I didn't try to free him—he still loves me_, she thought as she sat up and massaged her bare abdomen. _Bloody hell, I still have the bikini on_. She covered her face with her hands. _I'm bloody ridiculous_.

"My clothes are out there," she murmured and sneered.

"She's not married, then?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"No," Remus sighed as if Sirius had asked this question on multiple occasions.

"She isn't?"

"No," Remus laughed lightly.

"Does she…have a boyfriend?"

"What are we, thirteen?" she asked and folded her arms.

"No," Remus sighed, "no boyfriend."

"Fiancé?"

"No, Sirius," Remus laughed and Althea imagined Remus shaking Sirius by the shoulders. "Honestly, there is no one."

"I can't believe it," he replied. "I mean, she such a beautiful woman—are you sure?"

"Very sure…. She's probably by the door listening to us."

"On _my_ bed," she whispered.

"Let her," Sirius snorted. "She deserves a man to love her—"

"And you're the one," she sighed and frowned anxiously.

"—properly love her," Sirius continued—his voice facing the door.

"I'd stand away from the door, she might open it and hex you."

"She doesn't have her wand," Sirius explained and she imagined that awful smirk upon his lips. "She left it downstairs when she couldn't tell me that she _loved me_."

"Bastard!" she whispered heatedly and looked for something on her bed to throw toward the door, but found nothing.

"You love me, Althea, I know you do," Sirius said, resting his hand against the doorknob—the doorknob turning slightly.

Althea took a quick breath and scrambled to cover herself with her crisp white duvet.

"I love you, too."

Althea rushed to the door and opened it for him. "_Go_ away," she said through gritted teeth.

God how she loathed that smirk! That smirk upon his lips as his eyes leisurely traveled from her face to the duvet that surrounded her.

"What?" she asked defensively, tightening the duvet around her.

Sirius picked a goose feather that jutted out from the duvet and twirled it in his fingers. "Why are you wearing this?"

"I'm not properly dressed," she replied, adjusting the duvet as it fell to expose her shoulder.

"There's no need," he replied casually and tossed the feather aside. "We've all seen your breasts."

Althea's frown deepened. "_Some more recently than others_," she replied coolly, her eyes flickering over Sirius' shoulder to Remus.

Remus frowned and Althea felt a small satisfaction.

Her eyes returned to Sirius' smug expression. "What do you want?"

"My clothes," he answered and looked over her shoulder. "I see you've found them—oh, and the other items, in your bath, of course."

"Of course," she agreed and turned to fetch his things.

Althea collected his clothing into large heap in her arms and walked toward the bathroom. Careful not to drop an item, she collected his other things—the toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, brush, comb, shampoo, and—she almost forgot—his soap. _I should save the soap to throw at his head_, she thought darkly as she struggled to place it on the pile.

"I can manage," she snapped as she walked by Sirius and then Remus.

"Althea, really, let me help—"

"No need, Sirius."

Althea, struggling to keep the pile intact, stopped at the top of the staircase. _This should do_. She smiled as she heaved the large pile of clothes and other items down the staircase—the soap and heavier items tumbling to the bottom of the stairs.

"There," she said brightly as she turned toward the two. "Now, sod off."

It was Remus who spoke first, "You know we can't leave, Althea. This is the safest place for Sirius. The Ministry won't find him here."

Althea frowned, awkwardly folding her arms with duvet. "Fine, then," she replied, "I'll leave."

Althea started to prepare her body to Apparate, but Remus grabbed her arm. "I wouldn't do that," he replied, securely holding her forearm. "Having you in bits and pieces—"

Althea growled lowly, "_You_—"

"I know what bits—"

Althea lunged for the laughing Sirius, but was halted by Remus.

"Padfoot," Remus admonished.

Sirius shrugged.

Remus frowned at Sirius.

Althea wiggled free from Remus. "My broom!" She looked downstairs to where she thought she left it.

"I hid it," Sirius replied and winked.

"I'll transform—"

"I'll clip your wings," Remus warned and Althea screamed with frustration. "Althea—Althea, really," he continued harshly, frowning at her. "This is the safest place for Sirius, you know that."

Sirius smiled sweetly at Remus' side, and Althea fought to keep her cold expression. "Fine," she muttered and Sirius's grin widened. "You're _not_ staying in my room," she continued and rubbed her forehead. "Which room are you in, Remus?"

"The yellow room," he answered, pointing the door that Althea had cursed him against, knocking him unconscious. "Sirius would have taken the green room, but it's under refurbishment."

"Right," she murmured, realizing only one room remained. "Follow me," she said, walking between them.

The two followed Althea as she walked to the door at the opposite end of the corridor. Two summers before, she reclaimed the guest room for expansion of her bedroom. Sirius would have to live in her childhood bedroom. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside—uncomfortable that Sirius would live in her childhood bedroom. She had kept the room exactly as it was the night she discovered she would be attending Hogwarts—its dark cherry wood furniture in contrast with the soft pink walls and the crisp white of the curtains and canopy. She fought a smile as she thought of Sirius sleeping underneath a duvet of embroidered pink rosebuds.

"It's very pink," Sirius remarked upon entering.

"Of course, it is," she replied, looking at picture of Lily and herself that rested on the writing desk, "I was eleven."

"It's better than a cave or the Forbidden Forest," he replied lightly and messed the back of his hair. "Softer, too," he added, his hand patting the bed.

"Good. The bath is through that door," she explained, pointing toward a white door at the far end of the room.

"Thanks, I'll collect my things," he replied and smiled. "Thank you," he added and held out his hand.

Althea did not take it. "Right," she replied and turned to leave.

"Althea," Sirius said, as she was about to walk through the doorway.

"Yes?" she asked, not turning to face him.

"Your wand, you left it downstairs," he replied as he walked toward her. "Here," he added, holding it over her shoulder.

"Thank you," she replied, taking her wand into her hand.

Althea hastily walked the corridor—the majority of the overstuffed duvet trailing behind her. She heard Sirius slam his hand against the doorframe and mutter something to Remus about Althea being unreasonable. _I'm not unreasonable_, she thought as she levitated her trunk upstairs. _I don't want him in my home, that's all_. Althea followed her trunk into her bedroom, mended the broken picture frame, and decided that she did not want to swim anymore.

She wanted to spend a lonely evening in her room—no watching the first sunset from the widow's walk or taking a moonlit swim. _I'm a prisoner in my home_, she thought, entering her bathroom. Taking a jar of lavender-scented bubble bath from the sink cupboard, she generously poured the thick, purple liquid into the hot, running water and waited for the bathtub to fill. _He's probably searching through my childhood things_, she thought, as she looked out the bathroom window that overlooked the rose garden and listened to the sound of the water splashing into the bathtub. Tomorrow morning, she would pick a few of the roses and arrange them in a vase for her solarium. _Damn, he'll find some of my old journals…Hogwarts journals_. Althea cringed at what she might have written. _If it is after fifth year, it is all about my undying, unyielding love for him_, she thought as she turned off the water. _Bugger all; he'll have a great laugh_. Untying her bikini top and slipping off her bikini bottom, Althea gently slid into the warm, inviting bubble bath.

Althea blew the bubbles from her fingertips, and watched them slowly float and merge with the other lavender bubbles. "Fantastic," she murmured—the warm water easing sore muscles.

It was a beautiful and mostly smooth broom flight to her Bermuda plantation home; however, she did encounter some trouble over northern Virginia—or at least Althea thought it was northern Virginia. A bit of turbulence jostled her trunk open, and a few of her clothes fell to the ground below. The clothes landed on a Muggle streetlamp, a statue in the center of town, and the middle of a thirteen-year-old boy's birthday pool party. Althea decided not to retrieve the bra that fell into the birthday boy's lap, his mortified mother hastily snatching the bra from him. _It was a new bra, too_, she thought, frowning slightly and she rested her head against the back of the bathtub. _At least I enlivened a boring birthday party_.

The warm Bermuda sun lazily slipped below the horizon, creating various deep hues of yellow, orange, red, and purple over the silhouetted cedar treetops. Althea imagined the stars and planets, glowing and twinkling with greater intensity as the evening passed. _I should be out there watching it, not in here_, she thought, looking out her bathroom window from her bathtub. _I'm not in the proper part of the house to watch it_. Althea closed her eyes and held her breath as she slid underneath the soapy water. _He thinks I'm beautiful_, she thought, as she could no longer hold her breath and surfaced. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed the wet hair away from her face. She looked at her knees, how they softly curved, peeking through the bubbles, and to her hands, thin and with manicured nails, now resting on the sides of the bathtub. _He thinks I'm beautiful…of course, he thinks I'm beautiful. He hasn't seen a woman in almost thirteen years_, she thought and laughed to herself. _He does ooze the charm still, doesn't he? I left Azkaban so angry, but he…I must mind myself_. Althea lifted her feet out of the water and frowned—she did not like that nail polish at all.

"You've never had fat toes," Sirius said as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe.

Althea quickly dropped her feet into the water and attempted to modestly cover herself with her arms and hands. "Why are you here?" she asked shortly as Sirius continued to smirk.

"My soap," he answered, walking forward and Althea sank further into the back of the tub. "When you threw my items down the stairs, you forgot to throw my soap," he explained and sat on the edge of the tub, dipping his fingers into the bubbles.

"Get your hand out of my bath," she demanded coolly.

"I left it by the bathtub," he explained, shaking the excess bubbles from his hand. "I thought it might have dropped in."

Althea's foot felt something slippery and rectangular. She quickly reached underneath the water and produced his soap. How had she forgotten that she tossed it into the bathtub? _I was so occupied, I probably forgot to look when I started my bath_, she thought, lifting the soap out of the water.

"Here," she muttered, handing him his soap. "Now you can go."

"Right, thanks," he replied and winked.

"Goodnight," she replied and nodded for him to stand.

"Goodnight," he said and took one last look at her, sighed, and stood.

Hearing her bedroom door close, Althea covered her face with her wet hands. Why would he think it all right to bother her? She let out a quiet noise of disgust. How had she forgotten his soap? She couldn't have, could she…no, she did not forget his soap. She had taken his soap from the bath—it was the last thing—for she almost forgot to retrieve it. She had that urge to keep it and throw it at his head, but instead, threw it with the other items down the stairs. Althea quickly let her hands fall heavily into the bath—the soapy water splashing into her face. Wiping her face with her wet hands, she laughed uncomfortably at being fooled. Such a pathetic attempt, too.

"I have to remember to lock my door."

* * *

_Not another grey hair_, she thought disappointingly as she stared at the top of her head in the mirror. Tapping the grey strand with her wand, it immediately returned to its raven color. _Bloody hell, Sirius doesn't have grey hair, why should I_?

"Because he's not like normal men, that's why," she murmured, combing her wet hair. "Normal men do not survive Azkaban for twelve years and normal men do not love ex-lovers that let them rot there," she explained, combing her hair with greater ferocity. "You're not in love with a normal man," she continued and slammed the comb against the table, "and that's not normal."

A gentle knock at the door triggered her to throw her head back in annoyance. _Sirius or Remus, Althea, take your pick. He didn't walk straight in here; therefore, it must be Remus_, she thought as she stood. Althea felt a small jolt of pride in her deduction as she opened the door. _At least Remus is polite_. The last face-to-face conversation the two had occurred as Remus was about the catch the train at Hogsmeade, and Althea expected the conversation to be just as awkward and upsetting.

"Hello," she said, attempting her best to sound unaffected.

Remus nodded and smiled slightly. "We've cooked supper," he replied, pointing in the direction of the stairs.

"I'll cook my own meals," she replied brusquely and added an awkward, "thank you."

"Right," he replied and smiled weakly. "It's there, though. Very good, actually."

Althea frowned. "How can you act as if this all doesn't affect you?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

His eyes flickered some emotion, but she could not determine what.

"You've betrayed me."

Remus sighed—a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "He needs you," he replied softly.

"And you don't?" she asked, folding her arms. "How many times a day do you repeat that Sirius needs Althea?"

"Don't, Althea," he replied in a hushed tone—his eyes looking from side to side.

"Stop denying yourself," she replied, moving closer.

Remus took a small step back. "I'm not."

Althea shook her head. "How can you change your emotions so easily? How can you easily suppress strong feelings?"

Remus took a deep breath before he spoke, "I've done it my entire life."

"It's wrong," she replied, feeling tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "You're willing to give up everything?"

"I have."

"I don't understand," she murmured, furrowing her brow. "Doesn't it anger you or upset you that you could wake up in the middle of the night and hear Sirius and I make love? How could you roll over and sleep peacefully?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "I could never do so."

"Practice," he muttered quickly.

"What?"

Remus roughly ran his fingers through his hair. "What do you want me to say? 'I only made love to you because I wasn't in my right mind,' is that what you want me to say?" he asked, his voice slightly louder.

"If it makes you feel better," she answered and took a deep gulp of air as Remus frowned.

"Never mind," he replied and shook his head. "Supper is in the kitchen if you'd like it," he repeated and started to walk away.

"_Goodbye_, Remus," she replied and Remus was about to stop, but continued walking. "Unlike others, I always say goodbye," she added and knew Remus was frowning at her.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

"Bloody hell, Sirius, no," Althea pleaded softly as she opened her bedroom door.

Althea stooped to pick up the small bouquet of wildflowers Sirius had placed against her door. The placement of the flowers started the morning after her arrival—at first a large bouquet of roses, which Althea angrily threw at Sirius's head (according to her, he had ruined the prized rosebush and it was now lopsided). Next, he placed a smaller bouquet of roses against her door, which she placed in a blender, tapped it with her wand, and the three watched as the red roses were chopped into a red soupy mess (she needed a new blender, anyway). With each new day, the bouquets became smaller, and now, a new feature tucked inside the bouquet—a letter. _It's becoming pathetic_, she thought as she opened the folded letter. _I can't take you back…. What life will we have if I do so_?

"A half-life," she murmured, frowning deeply as she read the letter.

Althea's attempts at refusal were—by now—just as pathetic. Refolding the letter, which detailed his love for her and regret for what happened, she quietly descended the staircase and walked toward the kitchen. As she entered the kitchen, she felt as though she should laugh from the absurdity of the scene, but she did not. Remus sat at the small kitchen table, reading the _Daily Prophet_—periodically sipping a coffee—as Sirius, wearing one of her mother's aprons over his clothes, cooked them breakfast.

"Good morning," Remus said happily as he folded the _Daily Prophet_ in half.

Althea gave a half-hearted smile.

"They believe he's in Cyprus," he added, nodding toward Sirius.

"Cyprus, ha!" Sirius laughed loudly as he turned over sausages in the frying pan. "Morning, Althea," he added and winked at her. "I reckon you're hungry."

Remus widened his eyes slightly and nodded for her to respond.

"You're wearing my mother's apron," she replied and sneered as Sirius cracked an egg into the frying pan. "Aqua looks awful on you."

"Can't seem to find my spare wand," he replied, cracking another egg into the frying pan. "Moony's awful at cleaning charms—"

"He's thirty-four," she interrupted, resting her hands on her hips, "use his proper name."

Sirius smirked as he separated the eggs with a spatula. "Right, _Professor Remus J. Lupin_ is awful at cleaning charms," he replied and flipped the eggs into the air and back in the frying pan.

"You're such an idiot," she murmured, letting her arms fall to her sides as Remus frowned at her.

"You've called me worse," he sighed, leaning against the kitchen worktop. "Anyway, be straight with me, where's my spare wand?"

"Where you left it," she began to explain, her stomach growling from the smell of cooked sausages and eggs, and the smell of fresh coffee. "In your trunk in the attic—"

"I've already looked there," he interrupted, his tone slightly frustrated.

"I didn't touch it, if that's what you mean," she replied, peering into the frying pan. The sausages crackled, popped, and sizzled in the frying pan. "Look again, you have two spare wands."

"Two?" Remus repeated, looking at Sirius with surprise.

"I had a talk with Moody once and he said it was a good idea," Sirius replied dismissively, waving his hand to disregard Remus' surprise. He looked behind him to the frying pans and took a plate from the cupboard before him. "Almost done," he added and smiled as he looked to Althea's hand clutching the bouquet. "What will you do today? Throw them at my head? Ruin another Muggle device? Toss the bouquet into the frying pan? You did that on the third day," he explained and winked. "I learned right quick to eat before you entered. This is your breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," she replied—her stomach gurgling loudly enough for him to hear.

Sirius continued to smirk until she handed him the small bouquet of wildflowers. Taking the bouquet into both hands, he stared at her strangely—unable to discern the meaning behind her nonviolent gesture.

"I'll have cereal," she replied, walking between them to reach her pantry.

Althea quietly took a box of cereal from the pantry and poured it into a small bowl. After returning the milk, she walked toward the kitchen door that led to the veranda overlooking a vegetable garden. _Cold, soggy, unappetizing cereal_, she thought, frowning at the cereal already turning to mush in her green bowl. _No, you had to refuse the appetizing breakfast. Why_? Althea sat at the small table, placing the unappetizing breakfast before her. _Because Sirius would have interpreted it incorrectly, and now you must eat this awful cereal_. She dipped her spoon into the beige mass and groaned. Taking the spoon to her lips, she sneered and let the spoon slip from her hand—it clinking and sliding into the bowl—submerging itself in the beige mass.

"Here," Sirius said, placing a plate next to her bowl.

Althea gazed at the plate, neatly arranged with two eggs, two sausages, and two strawberries. _He still doesn't understand, 'no_,' she thought, her stomach growling and gurgling at the smell of a more appetizing breakfast.

"You were always particular about breakfast," he continued, sitting across from her. "What are you waiting for? Tuck in," he said enthusiastically, holding up a knife and fork for her.

Althea kept her hands in her lap, refusing to take the knife and fork. "You're still wearing her apron," she remarked, leaning back in her chair.

Sirius lowered his hands, placing the utensils on the table. "I know you'd throw this plate at me," he replied, lifting the plate slightly—a sausage rolling into an egg.

"You don't know me," she murmured, kicking her heel against the wooden floor of the veranda.

Sirius laughed loudly, which caused her to jolt upright. "You haven't proven to me otherwise," he replied, picking up a large, ripened strawberry. "Throwing things at my head, calling me an idiot…being overly dramatic about everything."

"Azkaban's obviously stunted you," she replied coolly and Sirius's grip on the strawberry tightened. "You still have a feeling of entitlement. Where does it come from?"

"I forgot scathing remarks in an attempt to hurt me," he said with forced levity. "Here," he added, holding the tip of the strawberry toward her, "have one."

"No, I can feed myself," she replied, turning her face away.

"It's more fun this way," he replied, holding the strawberry to her lips.

Althea's stomach contorted and her mouth watered.

Sirius brushed the tip of the moist strawberry against her lips. "You used to enjoy this."

Althea roughly grabbed the strawberry from his hand and quickly shoved it in her mouth—its tart, sweet juices causing the muscles of her jaw to contract. She swallowed the strawberry defiantly as Sirius frowned at her.

"What will it take, Althea?" he asked and bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm going for a walk," she answered and stood, leaving Sirius and breakfast.

Her head bent, she hurriedly walked through her vegetable garden and down the path that led to her beach. Once a thriving sugarcane plantation in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Althea imagined the Morrigan family ships in the distance, awaiting cargo from her small island as she sat watching the waves come ashore. Burying her feet in the pink sand, she remembered the stories she invented about her home and laughed quietly. When she was nine years old, she insisted the coastline contained treasure buried beneath the sand. Of course, she was not sure what part of the coastline, but she knew it was there. The pirates—after sacking Spanish ships in the harbor of Santo Domingo (Althea's father had told her once of Drake's raid on the Dominican city, but she could not remember the details to include Drake; therefore, she invented a pirate—gloriously dashing, fearless, and romantic)—buried the treasure on her small island off Bermuda, but never returned. The ship sank off Cuba during a heavy gun battle with all on deck lost. To add to the dramatic tale, the pirates had left a curse on the treasure that only little girls with black hair and blue eyes could discover the vast fortune. _I only included that part when my father insisted he look for the treasure because it could be too dangerous for little girls_, she thought, laughing as a strong breeze blew the hair away from her face. _He was a strong man not to laugh at me_.

Althea smiled and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the waves reaching shore. _If only Dumbledore would allow me to teach Muggle Studies from here_, she thought, the waves sounding like chimes as they receded across thousands of tiny shells. _It wouldn't seem like such a useless class then…. Lesson plans for next year: continue informing Wizarding children of Muggle things so they do not look like idiots when they step outside…unlike their parents_. To her, Muggle Studies was a useless class and the professorship of such a class was just as useless. It took no skill to teach such a course and she reckoned that was the reason Dumbledore chose her for the mundane position. She had never meant to be a schoolteacher—a Healer, a Midwife, but her life did not follow the invisible plan she had established for herself. On the fateful night of Halloween almost thirteen years ago, her life changed dramatically. She was no longer a pregnant witch, semi-retired from her Midwife profession; she became a childless, drunken, mad shell full of self-hatred and ready to exact revenge. It took a period in Azkaban to break her, to show her how truly ugly she had become, and it took her grandmother and Dumbledore to save her.

She was functioning and happy, although to say she was flourishing would have been an exaggeration. She attempted to enjoy her work—often found the students entertaining—sought to bring unconventional ideas to a conventional class (the sixth year's production of _The Crucible_ was an amazing success with the students eager to writhe about the stage "bewitched"), and discovered she had large amounts of time she could devote to her parents' research. _I think I'll wait another week before I read Professor Kafka's new paper on his hypothesis of the biological component of magic_, she thought, inhaling a deep breath of the salty ocean breeze. However full she forced herself to believe her life was, secretly she knew it was a lie; her life was a hollow casing of what it once was, of what it could be, and she despised it. What she craved most in life was to be needed and to be loved. Now, she had that opportunity—to be the one person that mattered—but she had refused it with every advance, every gesture of love.

Resting her chin against her folded arms on her knees, she opened her eyes and stared out to sea. She knew that if she turned her head to the left, in the distance toward her home she would see the crudely constructed Hogwarts castle Sirius had attempted to build from sand. She watched from the widow's walk as Sirius spent an entire afternoon forming the sand, and then swearing when the sand would fall or when the tide would wipe it out. Remus had joined him and the two soon started a friendly argument about how many turrets the castle had. It resulted with Sirius kicking over half of the sandcastle away as he told Remus there were forty-two turrets. Tired of the sandcastle, Sirius began to create a message for Althea. Next to the sandcastle, Sirius had written _I love you_ out of shells, large enough for her to see from the widow's walk. Althea secretly smiled from the gesture once more, but quickly frowned. _He was so proud of it though—it didn't matter he received a horrible sunburn_, she thought, resisting the urge to look at it. _I thought the tide would have washed it away by now, but it hasn't_. The sound of feet shuffling across the sand interrupted her from her thoughts and the muscles in Althea's abdomen and shoulders tensed.

"I remember the first time I came here," Remus said as he sat next to her. "The summer before seventh year…do you remember? Well, I do. It was James, Peter, myself, Lily's sister—I still don't understand how she married that man after all we tried—Lily, Sirius, and you," he explained and laughed. "Do you remember the night you and Sirius became very drunk on this beach and Lily had to run out to save your honor?" he asked, gently nudging her.

"I became sick in the rose garden, and you and James had to rescue Sirius before the tide came in," she answered hollowly.

"Then, the time James caught a look at your backside in the bikini and blurted out, 'That's Morrigan! Sirius, that girl was Morrigan! You never told me it was Morrigan!' And Sirius tackled him to the ground to stop him from talking," he reminisced and laughed again.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, watching a small crab poke its claw out of the wet sand a few feet away.

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"The summer before our fifth year?"

Althea shook her head.

"You and Lily were on holiday in Greece at the same time as James and Sirius. Not knowing it was you, Sirius caught sight of your backside and spent a half hour describing to James everything he'd do to your backside—"

"Ugh," she groaned and scratched the tip of her nose.

"He approached you and you turned to face him…he was completely mortified," he continued, his smile revealing his delight in Sirius mortification. "When James asked what happened, he told James the girl had the worst possible face," he continued and sighed deeply, but happily. "You know, up until his death, James loved to find an opportunity to tease Sirius about it."

"Sirius ruined that Summer Holiday," she sighed, brushing the hair away from her face. "He ruins everything."

"Althea—"

"Why do you care so much?" she asked, turning her face toward him.

Remus remained silent and Althea slammed her fists into the sand from frustration.

"Just tell me that the night at Hogwarts was a mistake, that you never intended to date me, that you don't love me! Tell me it was the Wolfsbane—tell me something!"

Remus sighed, shaking his head. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"See!" she exclaimed, pointing her finger at his face. "You're avoiding it. Anything that's too painful for you, you brush it aside."

"Like what you're doing," he remarked and winked as Althea growled.

_Damn you, Remus, for always twisting words_, she thought, narrowing her eyes.

Remus brought his hands to her face, smoothing stray strands of hair away from her cheek. "It wasn't a mistake, my intentions were honest…I willingly made love to you," he explained in earnest, gently wiping the tears trickling down her face. "I love you."

"Then—"

"It is the same reason why I resigned from Hogwarts; I was exposed as a werewolf," he said, cupping her face in his hands. "Parents won't approve of a Hogwarts schoolteacher dating a werewolf."

"And they'll approve of one dating a supposed mass murderer?" she remarked incredulously. "You feel guilty, Remus. You knew—_you knew_ you could not keep me a secret from Sirius. He'd discover I'd lived eventually, and how horrible would that be for him: you and I together," she explained and removed his hands from her face.

"No," he replied, running his fingers through his hair—seemingly from frustration, "you don't understand. You've never been able to understand; not everyone is like you. It would be a scandal and Dumbledore would have to fire you."

"Then I'll quit," she snorted, shrugging her shoulders.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "You would give up your opportunity to spend the next six years with your daughter?" he asked with disbelief.

"It's too painful," she answered quickly. "She'll never know who I am. Could you imagine the anger and hurt she would feel if she discovered the truth? It's best I'm nothing to her, Remus."

"Althea," he began, wiping away new tears that trickled down her cheek, "you have a wonderful opportunity to be more to her than her adoptive mother."

"What are you talking about? I'm just Professor Morrigan—"

"I've been a schoolteacher long enough to know when children do not connect with their parents," he explained, thoughtfully looking into her eyes. "She loves Mrs. Parker, I know that, but she connects with you. Didn't you see?" he continued eagerly with a faint smile. "She could have given McGonagall or Dumbledore the gift to give to me, but she gave it to you. She's a girl that craves attention and you can be that outlet before—"

"Before she ends up like me," she interrupted, brushing Remus's hand away. "You've ruined my summer."

Remus sighed as he scanned the sea. "I should return," he said and looked toward Althea, "Sirius is still looking for his spare _wands_ now."

"Right, go," she murmured as Remus stood—his joints popping.

"We'll have lunch in three hours, I'd hope you join us," he offered and Althea grunted her response.

Alone, Althea looked toward the sea once more and sighed as a dolphin's fin crested above the waves. _Does it help to know that Remus does love you? Does it help to know that if Sirius hadn't returned to Hogwarts that night you would be with him_, she thought, resting her chin against her folded arms on her knees. _Remus won't come back to you; his loyalty to Sirius is so strong…or regret. I feel that as well—regret. You let him rot there, Althea. Azkaban is a horrible, terrible place and you did nothing. He thought you were dead, but now, now, you have him back. He wants you and he loves you…but every time you'll look at him you'll remember. He's still so thin and his eyes…they will never lose that look—yours haven't…. Damn it! Why didn't he tell me of the Secret Keeper plan? He kept so much from me—how was I to know the truth_, she thought, her frown deepening. _You were a liability to him—to all of them_. Althea sighed sadly as she lifted her head from her folded arms. _Maybe I'll transfigure myself into a dolphin and leave this place_, she thought as two dolphin fins crested above the water. _Only, I'm not that clever_.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3**

A single bead of sweat slowly slid from Althea's hairline, down her forehead, to her temple before she lifted her hand to wipe it away. She frowned slightly, realizing that the hand she had used was covered in a thin layer of dirt. _I always forget_, she thought, as she picked another strawberry and placed it in her antique hand-woven basket. _I won't be the least bit surprised if I return to look at myself in the mirror and discover I have dirt across my entire face_. Althea continued to search the low-growing strawberry plants for the ripest ones, careful to steady herself as she did so. _Who put all these rocks in the strawberry bed_, she questioned as the side of her knee bumped against a large stone. _My knees can't endure much more. I'm not ten_.

At ten, Althea decided she wanted her own garden—filled with only her favorite things (being strawberries at the time)—and without her father's knowledge, started to till the soil underneath her childhood bedroom windows. Barely able to turn over the dirt with the shovel almost as large as her, Althea placed a large bowlful of strawberries from the kitchen into the small hole. Unknown to her, her father watched almost the entire display, and decided that she should have a suitable strawberry garden. Pleased with her new garden, Althea would spend hours with Marie—her nanny—attempting to pick strawberries. Of course, Althea's attempts at strawberry picking were always unsuccessful; she ate the majority of the strawberries—so much so that she would develop a stomachache.

"She never scolded me," she murmured, as she pushed a few leaves away from a ripe strawberry and plucked it. "Maybe she should've."

_I needed to be scolded_, she thought, brushing the dirt off the strawberry. _I should have been treated like a normal little girl…not the living remnant of my mother_. After placing the strawberry into her basket, she rested her hand on her hip, arching her back-stretching it and allowing it to pop and crack. Lifting her floppy hat away from her face, she looked up to her childhood bedroom windows. _How long has he been there_, she wondered, frowning slightly. Sirius sat in the window niche, his knees to his chest, intently reading. Althea gently bit her bottom lip as Sirius grinned and shook slightly with laughter as he continued to read. _Why did I ever agree to talk with him this evening? I hadn't had breakfast, that's why. It smelled so wonderful and I was hungry. I'd agree to almost anything when I'm hungry_.

Her stomach growling from hunger, Althea returned from the beach and entered her kitchen, where she discovered an appetizing lunch awaiting her. Succumbing to feelings of hunger, she sat at the kitchen table and greedily ate the lunch Sirius had prepared for the three. As she sat, her mouth full of sandwich, she listened as Remus proposed a meeting between Sirius and Althea—to sort out the history between them. Althea laughed, almost choking on a bite of sandwich—it would take more than one meeting to sort out their history. With pleading and finally threatening to take her second sandwich away, she agreed with the understanding that it would not indicate reconciliation or rekindling of any love relationship.

_I have to mind myself_, she thought as she returned to picking strawberries. _It will only further insinuate to him that I haven't changed, but I have—I have changed dramatically…I'm not his Althea_.

"So bloody long in Azkaban, he's forgotten who I truly am," she murmured, looking at the large, ripe strawberry held by her fingers.

Althea felt uncomfortable as she took a bite of strawberry. Not from the fruit, but from the unnerving feeling that someone from above was watching her. She slowly turned her head and looked above to see Sirius staring at her from his window niche. Her eyes meeting his, he smiled and casually waved, and rested his fingertips against the windowpane. Althea quickly turned her head away from the window and felt the back of her neck flush with embarrassing warmth. _He's still grinning, I know it_, she thought as the juice from the strawberry dripped onto her fingers. She raised the rest of the strawberry to her lips, frowned, and tossed the half-eaten strawberry to her side.

"I've had enough of strawberries," she murmured, standing.

* * *

Althea anxiously kicked her heel against the floor as she waited for Sirius in the drawing room. _He's not here….you're here…only due to your overwhelming hunger pangs—dodgy lot, those two_, she thought, folding her arms, watching Remus as he paced in front of the mantel. He stopped, rested his arm on the mantle, and gently stroked the bow of the replica ship.

"Be careful," she warned as Remus touched a sail. "It's very old."

"How old?"

"Over one hundred and fifty," she answered and Remus's eyes widened slightly.

Remus leaned closer to the replica and laughed with surprise. "_The Althea_," he read and turned to face her. "I didn't know you were named after a ship," he continued, pointing to the ship. "Or did you inscribe that when you were younger?"

"I would have been in loads of trouble if I had touched that ship," she remarked, sinking lower in the couch. "I broke a sail. It was the only time my father ever raised his voice to me—well, it was more a tone of disapproval."

"Really? Oh, I see it," he replied, and pointed to the second sail. "Were you named after this ship, then?"

"I really don't know. It might be coincidence, really," she explained and frowned thoughtfully. "He might've though."

"It's a beautiful ship though," he replied and took one last look at the ship as he walked toward the couch.

"Where is he?" she asked with some irritation, resting her head against the back of the couch.

"He'll be here," he replied, sitting next to her. "Probably feeding Buckbeak—oh, don't frown."

Althea continued to frown. "I was attacked in my carriage house," she replied bitterly. "It's _my home_, Remus. You should have asked permission before using it to house a hippogriff."

"We should have warned you," he replied, resting his head against the back of the couch. "However, you haven't spoken much to us until today."

"You brought Sirius to my home without permission," she replied, unfolding her arms and letting them fall heavily at her sides. "You betrayed me."

"I didn't betray you," he replied, folding his arms as well. "It's for your own good."

Althea let out a laugh. "My own good? How fatherly of you," she said. "You never allowed me the opportunity to decide for myself if I wanted to meet him."

"Come now, Althea," he said knowingly, turning his head toward her, "we both know you'd never want to meet him."

Althea sat up and quickly turned her body to face him. "Why shouldn't I move on? Why shouldn't he?" she asked. "It's twelve years, Remus. I'm not like you who has nothing to lose by taking him back."

Remus raised an eyebrow in thought. "You'd lose my friendship if you didn't meet with him," he spoke and Althea threw herself against her couch.

"Why must everyone decide what is best for me?" she asked, folding her arms as she pouted.

"Your bad decisions are legendary, that's why," he remarked and Althea cast him a murderous glare. "Would you like me to remind you of all your bad decisions?"

"No," she murmured gruffly, unfolding her arms. "Where is he?" she asked with greater irritation, kicking her heels against the floor. "He's five minutes late. I want to get on with this."

"He's very nervous—"

"Likely—"

"He is—"

"Right," she interrupted, incredulously looking at Remus. "Aren't you nervous? Nervous that I might go back to him?"

"I'm nervous that you might hex him," he replied, smoothing out his worn robes. "Strange, that you would entertain such a thought after—"

Althea growled, narrowing her eyes. "Don't bloody start—"

Remus sighed with some annoyance. "I was exposed, Althea," he replied, brushing off a piece of lint from his robes. "Move on, as I have."

"What?"

"I have a symposium to attend in late summer," he explained, scratching the side of his face. "I'll attend it with Melania—"

"The girl you met at the Registry? The one with the brother?" she asked—her voice higher.

Her face flushed slightly as Remus nodded.

"She is a bit young, isn't she?"

Remus shrugged his shoulders. "She's not _that_ young—she's twenty-seven," he replied, a small wry smile emerging across his face. "It's not like she's _twenty-two_," he added and laughed quietly as Althea's face paled. "Afina is terrible at keeping secrets. I thought you'd understand that by now."

"You're like bloody Dumbledore," she muttered, folding her arms. "I'll go back to him to spite the both of you."

"He's a _boy_, Althea," he replied, folding his arms.

"So?" she snorted, shrugging her shoulders. "Why should you care?"

"Then show me the same courtesy," he replied and pinched her nose.

She frowned at him.

"Now, mind yourself," he warned and looked toward the door. "He's almost here."

Althea heard the floorboards creak and her stomach contorted—her heart starting to race. She inhaled a forced, deep breath as Sirius—pale—entered and sat across from her in an overstuffed chair. _Why did I ever agree to this? What can he say that will make it better_, she asked herself as she sat straighter on the sofa. _You're fooling yourself, Althea_.

"Aren't you going to take his wand?" she asked, pointing toward Sirius. "You took mine."

"Right," Remus murmured, holding out his hand. "I'll have that wand now, please."

Sirius took the wand from his robe pocket, handing it to Remus. "She's just as capable of injuring me with her fist," he said, leaning back in the chair. "How'd you decide on a talk anyway?"

"I saw it on the television in the sitting room," he explained, placing Sirius's wand in his robe pocket. "Some Muggle program where they talk about their problems and try to solve them."

"And do they solve their problems?" Sirius asked with skepticism, folding his arms.

"I don't know," he replied and laughed lightly. "I fell asleep."

"Brilliant," Althea muttered and rolled her eyes. "Right, I don't want to do this anymore," she added, standing.

"Please sit," Remus replied, taking hold of her forearm.

"No, this like everything else with Sirius is a mistake," she replied, pulling her arm away from him.

"As if I hadn't heard that before," Sirius murmured darkly, frowning.

"It's ridiculous. I won't be a part of this," she said and turned to Sirius, who continued to frown at her. "We can't repair it," she explained, shaking her head. "I don't know what you or Remus had in mind for us, but if you need someone I can arrange it."

"_Sit down_, Althea," Remus warned, attempting to take hold of her arm.

Althea shook him away. "I won't sit down," she snapped—her voice louder. "I can arrange something—"

Sirius was speechless, open-mouthed.

"What do you want?"

"Want?" he asked, with a mild look of revulsion.

"Muggle girl? Witch? Brunette, blonde—"

"I want _you_," Sirius interrupted, standing. "I know it's mad, but just listen—"

"_Me_?" she asked, placing a hand to her breast. "Of course it's mad—"

Remus sat with his face in his hands, murmuring for Althea to stop.

"You were in Azkaban. I continued my life. Did you think I waited for you?"

Sirius paled—his lips thinned.

"That I remained _celibate_ for you?" she asked with humorous disbelief. "Good God, Sirius—"

"God, Althea, don't," Remus murmured from her right.

Althea disregarded Remus's trepidation. "Twelve bloody years—why do you feel entitled to me?"

"We have a daughter!" he answered, stepping forward.

Althea's faced drained of color—did Sirius know?

"She's dead!" she replied, her own voice wavering—and she prayed, convincing.

She took a step back as the room became very quiet.

"As if you care," she murmured, running her fingers through her hair.

"_What_?" he asked, his voice stricken, standing within inches of her. "Her grave was overgrown with weeds!" he continued, his jaw tightened—his facial expression dark and frightening. "Do you not care? Do you not visit her because she's of my blood?"

Althea's stomach convulsed upon itself at Sirius's earnest sadness.

"I cleaned up her grave," he said, slapping his hand against his chest. "But you don't care. You haven't visited her in ages, have you? What sort of mother are you?"

Althea slapped Sirius across his left cheek, and he refused to show any pain he might have felt. His stare remained dark, defiant and continued to frighten Althea. She cradled her right hand in her left as the palm stung and tingled from impact.

"Don't lecture me on motherhood," she sneered. "She was a mistake, Sirius. Isn't that what you said to James, or don't you remember?"

Sirius swallowed.

"Azkaban has been kind to our memory, hasn't it?"

Sirius was quiet.

"You told James that she was a huge mistake," she said and Sirius looked as though he was caught. "You weren't ready and you saw what happened to James after Harry and you didn't want that happening to you."

Sirius refused to look at Althea.

"I gave up my career, my freedom, and you were worried you couldn't ride that bloody motorbike or go down the pub—"

Sirius whispered, "That isn't—"

"Did you or did you not say that you regretted her?" she asked, but Sirius did not respond. "You told him that it kept you up at night."

Sirius remained silent for a few moments and inhaled a large, ragged breath. "You heard that?"

Althea nodded.

"I didn't—" he began, his look pleading, "I was scared."

Althea inhaled sharply.

"It wasn't just us—it wasn't…" he said and sniffed, smoothing the hair from his face.

"And you contemplated leaving that night. James offered for you to stay with them, but you refused," she explained and furrowed her eyebrows, swallowing back tears. "After that, I knew what I was to you…a burden and I didn't want to be that."

Sirius covered his mouth, roughly rubbing his fingers over his mouth and then his cheek. "That's why you would say it was okay for me to leave," he murmured, massaging the back of his neck.

Althea nodded slowly.

"God, my love—"

"You took your motorbike and you left us…I knew you'd leave—I wanted you to leave. We were a liability to you," she explained her voice trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I woke up—you didn't think I'd wake up? I went to look for you and I saw the motorbike gone…and I knew—I knew you left us," she continued, clumsily wiping her eyes.

She looked to her hands, to the smeared mascara on the palms, and then to Sirius—he too was crying.

"I was attacked then," she said, her voice barely audible. "They tortured me…and I heard you—I heard you shout for me, but they silenced me so I couldn't shout back—"

Sirius covered his mouth with his hand.

"I wanted to die because I couldn't escape," she explained—her throat painfully constricting—and covered her face with her hands, sobbing into them.

"God," Sirius whispered, resting his hand on her shaking shoulder, "none of this was supposed to happen."

"I can't have children—I was cursed," she whispered and lowered her hands. "What wizard wants an infertile witch?" she asked quietly, looking into his eyes.

Sirius lifted his hands to her face, wiping the wet strands of hair away. "As if we could have a kid anyway," he remarked—attempting levity—and sniffed loudly. "As you like to say I'd probably do something stupid and send the kid to St. Mungo's," he explained and pulled her close to him. "I wouldn't be much of a father, would I?"

Althea did not resist, but rested the side of her face against his thin shoulder. _I'm a horrible woman for letting him believe Prudence dead_, she thought as she slipped her arms around his neck—feeling his hair between her fingers.

"I'm an awful mother," she whispered and hiccoughed. "It's best that I can't have children."

"No, you'd be a fine mother," he murmured and rested the side of his face against the top of her head. "Is that why you didn't marry? Because you can't have children?" he asked quietly, holding her tightly. "You hadn't found the proper wizard to love you," he whispered soothingly, stroking the back of her head.

_I had, only he loved you more_, she thought, opening her eyes to see Remus sitting—calmly sitting—watching them. _Practice_.

"I cried for you," Sirius whispered and kissed the top of her head. "I thought I had killed everyone…. I went to warn you, to take you away, to tell you everything because of anyone, I knew you'd believe me," he explained, his tears trickling through Althea's hair and onto her scalp.

"I would've," she murmured and he squeezed her tightly, kissing the top of her wet hair.

"I searched for you, I called for you, and I saw your dressing gown torn in the garden and I knew they took you…. I had nothing else then," he replied, his voice very grim. "I was going to do it—go after Peter, kill him, and then kill myself," he continued and Althea felt the muscles of his body become rigid. "We let him in our home, we let him hold Harry, he was there—remember—at Harry's birth, waiting with me? He wanted Harry dead then, Althea. We let him feel our daughter kick," he finished and pulled away from her—his face reminiscent of the years in Azkaban and not the two weeks of the beach. "He wanted all of us dead…he was going to find Remus to kill him when I found him."

"So, you didn't kill yourself because you wanted to kill Peter," she replied knowingly, smoothing the hair away from her face. "That's why you spent those twelve years in Azkaban."

Sirius swallowed his tears and looked toward the ceiling. "I thought I had," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I thought I had killed him," he said his voice louder. He furrowed his brow and looked to his sandaled feet. "It wasn't until last summer that I realized I hadn't—"

Althea's eyes widened. She wildly looked about, feeling the panic rise in her chest. Her mind ignored Sirius's tale of his escape, for she focused on one thought: Sirius Black willingly chose Azkaban. _He thought us dead, and yet, he chose to suffer_, she thought and quickly placed her hand upon her stomach to stop her heave. He would have remained in Azkaban—willingly—if he hadn't realized Peter Pettigrew had escaped down that sewer almost thirteen years ago.

"I was waiting for the right moment," he explained bitterly, "and I had it."

"Then why, when you had the chance, didn't you?" she asked, gently stroking his upper arms. "When he had murdered James and Lily…when you thought he had murdered me?"

"Harry."

"Harry?"

Sirius nodded solemnly. "He felt James wouldn't have wanted us to kill," he answered and looked to Remus.

Remus nodded as well. "It's true," he said hoarsely.

Althea furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she looked at Sirius. "But James knew that you killed that one Death Eater, it would have…."

However, Althea did not finish, she saw something in Sirius that she had not seen in over twelve years. Sirius would have done anything for James, no questions asked and no protests. It did not matter that Peter's betrayal had led to what he thought was the gruesome death of Althea and their child. He did not choose Azkaban because of her death. He would not kill Pettigrew to avenge her death. _We were an afterthought_. Althea and his own daughter would always be second to the memory of James Potter.

"No more," she whispered, shaking her head as she slowly backed away from Sirius.

"Althea—"

"No," she interrupted and hastily turned to leave.

"Let me finish," he pleaded, reaching for her arm.

"_Don't_," she demanded, pulling her arm away. "Leave me alone!"

Sirius growled and spun toward Remus. "What is wrong with her?" he questioned, thrusting his hand in Althea's direction.

"You should've killed yourself for then I'd know where I truly stood with you!" she shouted—her throat burning and sore.

Sirius, confused and frustrated, looked from Remus to Althea. "She's mad, Remus! Listen to her," he spoke with disbelief, "if I were dead, no one would know the truth!"

"And I'd be better off!"

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Remus spoke first, "Sirius, let her go."

Sirius closed his mouth and frowned deeply. "Fine," he muttered, defeated.

Althea hastily walked out of the drawing room and ran up the stairs. Slamming and locking the door behind her, she threw herself onto her bed—the duvet fluffing up around her. _How could I have been so stupid_, she thought, slamming her fists into the soft duvet. _In a moment of extreme weakness, I open myself up to him, I let him hold me, cry in his arms, and what happens? He tells me that I don't matter! That my Prudence doesn't matter! We're still second and we always will be_. Althea shook from rage as she sobbed into her duvet. _James—James would have done anything for Lily, and he did_, she thought, her sobbing intensifying. _Sirius wouldn't do the same for me_.

"Althea," Sirius said from outside her door—his voice strained. "Althea, please let me talk to you," he pleaded, attempting to the open the door.

"You've done enough!" she shouted into her duvet. "Go away!"

She heard Sirius sigh deeply, and soon, she heard him walk away. _Good_, she thought, her face warm from sobbing and her breathing. _I don't want to speak with you_. However, Althea heard her lock jiggle and with a _click_, the door unlocked.

"You forget I can pick locks," Sirius said as he closed the door behind him.

Althea felt Sirius sit upon her bed and she rolled over to look at him. "What do you want?" she asked shortly, lifting herself onto her elbows.

Sirius frowned, rubbing his chin. "Maybe I should have stayed away," he answered and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Maybe you should've."

Sirius shook his head. "I couldn't though," he replied, sitting closer to her. "I love you."

"I'm the only woman who'll talk to you," she murmured, looking toward her feet.

Sirius rested his hand on her shin, causing Althea to sit up, retracting her leg. "You never let me finish, you know," he replied and took a deep gulp of air.

"What else is there?" she remarked, pulling at a string on her duvet.

"I knew I could protect you…and I could do it alone," he began and Althea let out a laugh out of spite. "Prudence had her mother and father, and I knew that we wouldn't be afraid to do what we had to do—"

_I did_, she thought, pulling out the string. _I killed those that tortured me. I lost our daughter to a Muggle couple because I had to protect her from your family_.

"I never saw you, though. A small part of me believed that you didn't die—that you fought them off," he continued, placing his hand atop hers. "I didn't want to believe my mistake…" he paused and took a deep breath. "It didn't matter if I was or wasn't the Secret Keeper, they would have come after me anyway. I would have died anyway, Althea, but if the Secret Keeper dies, the charm can never be reversed," he explained and squeezed her hand. "No one would ever suspect Peter, and I would die—pretending I was the Secret Keeper—and James, Lily, and Harry would be safe."

Althea retracted her hand and stared into Sirius's eyes. "That is the _stupidest_ reasoning I have ever heard," she remarked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Sirius paled.

She wrinkled her brow. "And James and Lily agreed to this? Why couldn't—that is so bloody stupid!" She ran her fingers as far as she could through her hair. "Only you could be certain that you were not the spy."

"SHUT UP!" Sirius shouted—his demeanor frightening her and she cowered back on her bed. Sirius realized he must have frightened her and took a deep breath, brushing the hair away from his face. I'm sorry."

"How is this supposed to help me, Sirius?" she asked, crawling closer to him. "If I wasn't pregnant, you would have gone through with it," she continued, lowering her head as new tears fell to her cheeks. "No matter what, I'm the reason James and Lily are dead."

"You're being ridiculous," he replied, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "I would have done it anyway. I thought no one would suspect Peter—I mean—_he's Peter_."

Althea removed his hands from her face and looked into his eyes. "Obviously, like everyone else in your life—well, excluding James—you underestimated Peter," she replied, frowning deeply. "No one is as great and fantastic as Sirius—well, except for James."

"You know that isn't true," he replied, his jaw tightening.

"What about me? What about our daughter?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "We didn't matter. No one mattered except for James and no one was ever good enough except for James. All you care about is James."

"Don't you dare taunt James's memory!" he admonished, standing.

"See!" she shouted triumphantly, sitting up higher on her bed. "James has always meant more to you than anyone else! Would you have done what James did? Would you have died for me? Died for your daughter?"

"I gave up everything for you!"

Althea laughed. "That is such a lie!" she replied, standing as well. "You gave up nothing! You didn't leave your family for _me_," she continued, pointing to herself. "You left because one night, Lucius Malfoy came to invite you to join a private club for pure-blooded Wizardry. You knew what Malfoy was asking you to do and you left. You didn't leave to follow your heart, you left because you didn't want to start the process to become a Death Eater."

It was Sirius's turn to laugh. "Not the entire story," he replied smugly, resting his hand on the bedpost. "Malfoy said Voldemort was willing to overlook my little indiscretion—meaning you—and have it taken care of…have you murdered," he continued and odd shiver crossed his face. "He mentioned the Death Eaters setting fire to Andromeda and Ted's home that night, but I didn't believe him. I didn't believe him until I saw the charred ruins for myself. They escaped, but I had an image of you not as lucky—"

"So, you left then," she interrupted, folding her arms. "You're life is one of underestimating people, isn't it? Peter, your family, Voldemort—I believe you're about the only person who has—Remus, and you've underestimated me—"

"I've never underestimated you," he interrupted thoughtfully, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"You always have," she replied bitterly, looking into his eyes—his eyes haunted and dark.

"No," he replied softly, massaging her shoulders. "If anything, I was surprised at what you didn't do. Remus had told me that it was he and Frank that rescued you," he said and leaned forward. "I thought for sure you would have killed those two," he conspiratorially whispered in her ear.

_What if I did,_ she thought as Sirius slipped his arms around her waist, holding her close to him. _What if I hunted them and killed them out of revenge and not self-defense? Would you boast then_? Could she tell him the truth? Never. How would he react? Althea shivered at his possible rage. _He's created a new Althea_, she thought, as Sirius tenderly stroked her back—the sick feeling returning to her stomach. _It's not me he loves—it's his creation…. I can't let this continue_.

Sirius kissed the top of her head and inhaled a deep breath. "I didn't underestimate you," he murmured, resting his head atop hers. "You're alive."

"Let go of me," she said, and with all her strength, pulled away from him.

Sirius looked at her strangely as she took a step back, holding up her hands in front of her.

"I think it's best if you leave my bedroom—don't, please," she continued, taking another step back as Sirius stepped forward. "Don't touch me," she begged as Sirius reached out for her.

Sirius dropped his arm—his hand slapping against his thigh. "You want me to hold you and now you don't?" he asked, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Which is it, Althea?"

Althea did not respond, but gently bit her bottom lip.

"We've lost twelve years," he continued, looking into her eyes—his eyes refusing to admit the passion he spoke in his words. "I love you and I know you love me—"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted as she folded her arms and kicked her heel against the wooden floor.

Sirius's eyes widened. "_Doesn't matter_?" he repeated in amazement and growled—pulling at his hair. "I love you, what else is there?"

Althea shook her head sadly. "You don't love me," she answered quietly, looking to her feet. "You don't truly love _me_."

"I don't love you?" he questioned, and threw his hands up in the air, letting them drop heavily to his sides. "What more must I do, Althea?"

_Forgive me_, she thought and sighed ruefully.

"I don't know," she murmured, continuing to look at her feet—she would paint her toenails red for the pink color was too pale.

"When you discover it, tell me, right?" he asked with frustration.

_No_, she thought, lifting her eyes to him. _You would hate me more than I hate myself_.

"Just go, please," she whispered and fretfully bit her bottom lip.

"Right," he sighed and bit the inside of his cheek. As Sirius was about to open the door, he stopped and turned to face her. "What ever it takes, I'll do it," he said, looking into her eyes. "I love you."

_Forgive me_, she thought as Sirius closed the door after him.

"I love you, too," she whispered; she hiccoughed from letting the words escape and covered her mouth.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter 4**

"Moony, I don't understand. If she believes me innocent…why—"

Althea imagined Sirius releasing a desperate, frustrated sigh as the two men stood in the darkness beneath the layer of stars upon the widow's walk. She could hear their voices waft through her open bedroom windows. She lay very still in her bed—mindful of their conversation—her eyes focused upon the slight flutter of the white muslin curtains.

"That was a bloody disaster," Sirius continued. "I reckon I should go."

_Yes_, Althea thought, a well of relief in her chest, _it's best if you do_.

"You're safe here—"

"I'll find another place…. I'm not welcome."

"I can't help you, if you do."

There was a long quiet between the two men. The ocean waves, in a lulling rhythm, broke against the shore, which soothed her mind—her focus no longer upon the men as they discussed the events of the early evening. She soon began to drift into that cloudy state between awake and dreams. Her eyelids grew heavy with every labored blink.

"Moony, she thinks that I don't love her…. How can I prove to her that I do?"

The muscles of Althea's abdomen tightened. Why did he insist in his devotion? She rolled onto her back, the dimmed moonlight shone across the intricately molded ceiling, creating odd shadows. _Because it all returns when one leaves_. Althea's eyes unfocused and her mind drifted to her first memory of Alexandria. The sunlight illuminated her thin, dirty frame, and forced—in one nauseating rush—the flood of all memories into her consciousness. Unhinged, her emotions returned to the moments before Akzaban and before the dementors…belligerent and spiteful. She blinked to alleviate the stinging sensation of small tears in the corners of her eyes—Sirius returned to the moment of desperation, when he believed all he loved lost. _He is a good man and you don't deserve him_.

"Time…. She's not a girl anymore—she's a woman—flowers and love letters won't work."

"I reckon so."

"She feels betrayed, Padfoot. She didn't know you'd be here."

"Right, it was your idea, though."

"I stand by it, too. Yes, it was executed poorly but—"

"That's a bloody understatement—"

"It's guilt disguised as false pride, that's all."

_You know all about guilt, Remus_, she thought, narrowing her eyes.

"Eventually, she'll come around," Remus continued.

_Likely_.

"Mate, is it true about…you know…that she can't have children?"

Althea let out sharp gasp. His voice bore his disappointment.

"Unfortunately, so."

Her cheeks flushed at Remus's confirmation.

"Terrible…the poor girl."

Althea tightly shut her eyes. _He pities me_, she thought and swallowed. _Sirius pities me_!

"What wizard would want her?"

Althea quickly sat up.

"Sirius—"

"It's true, Moony. Don't tell me differently."

"Did you lie to her, then?"

Althea brought her knees to her chest and sniffed. _'Every good and established wizard hopes to settle down and start a family_,' she remembered the words the young Sirius's spoke. Despite rebelling against blood supremacy, there were still beliefs and idiosyncrasies Sirius could not escape. Of the pure-blooded elite, they were rather benign: to be magic was to be special, it was unthinkable for a magical child not to cultivate his talents, and the natural and expected course of a wizard's life was to father magical children. It was a belief, undoubtedly, Sirius had kept from his family. Indeed, during Althea's pregnancy, he did not look upon Misfiring Magic as a side effect. To him, the exploded wireless was a source of pride and it proved just how powerfully magical his child would be.

"No, I didn't lie…well, not really. I mean, I would've liked to have another child with her—maybe a son, you know—"

Althea rested her chin upon her folded arms. Would Sirius have been more attentive if they were expecting a boy? She had contemplated that thought during those countless nights alone in the cottage and Sirius out on a mission. However, such thoughts did not reveal any great truths as the outcome would have been the same: his child, still an abstract being (or an object of denial), was second to the flesh and bones of Harry Potter. That he could forsake his daughter was a concept she could not comprehend for Prudence had always been real—growing, moving, living—to her.

"But that would be years away…. Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Why didn't you date her or marry her or something?"

"We're just good friends…nothing more, Padfoot."

Althea laughed bitterly as she wiped her eyes. _Good friends…is that what we were? Oh, Remus, good friends never do what we did_, she thought and loudly sniffed back her tears.

"Be straight with me, in all that time? All those years, you never once looked at her with anything more than friendship?"

"She didn't look at me."

It amazed her how Remus Lupin could lie so easily. She struggled with secrets and lies, and he seemed effortless. She held up her thumb and squinted her eyes. She imagined the fine, silvery pink scar that would be there. Magic could hide so much. She winced at the thought of the glass and at her boldness for doing so. Her heart quickened at the memory of his grip, of his lips hovering at the throbbing wound, and of his moist breath warming her skin. It was she who could satisfy him. His hunger transformed to relief as his tongue reverently did not let a drop fall. _No, I never looked at him_.

"There's something _different _about her," Sirius said.

"Different?"

"Yeah…but I'm not sure what. I reckon it's the hair—shorter…no…. I can't help it—it's mad, isn't it? She's keeping something from me, I know it."

"Of course, I am," she murmured, stretching her legs out before her. "I could never tell you the truth…about everything."

"You have been gone for twelve years," Remus explained. "She continued with her life."

"No, you don't know Althea like I do—"

Althea let out a laugh of spite as she flung the bedclothes from her.

"It's keeping her from me."

"It's guilt. I reckon she feels responsible in some way."

"Dumbledore gave evidence against me, Moony. I don't blame her—"

"Tell her, then," he said emphatically. "Tell her everything."

She reached for her wand to shut the windows, but thought better of it. Instead, she stood from her bed and walked toward the windows. The discussion of the evening had been a disaster. Eschar ripped from the flesh, to expose old wounds, was the only accomplishment of the evening. Sirius, who still believed as if he were twenty-one in Althea's devotion, was confused and unsure at Althea's erratic behavior. Althea kicked her heel against the floor. She did love him, but not in the manner that Sirius expected her to or as he professed to love her. The thought that Sirius loved her as much as the night he was taken from her caused her stomach to somersault. _He only had years to grieve and not move on_, she thought, wiggling her toes. Althea had moved on, hadn't she? She continued to eavesdrop upon the men until Remus yawned his goodnight.

'_Tell her…tell her everything_,' echoed in her mind as she ascended the stairs to the widow's walk. Her hand glided up the cool, white railing, and she looked above her when she reached the topmost step. Thousands of stars and planets littered the blackened sky. It reminded her of Hogwarts and of that night she rejected Sirius out of loyalty. A lone darkened figure stood at the farthest point. With his hands resting upon the railing, Sirius looked out to sea. If he realized he was no longer alone, he did not show it. Althea stepped forward, the filmy satin fabric of her nightgown swirled about her ankles with every step.

"Sirius?"

He did not respond.

She stopped within two feet of him. "I meant it," she said and Sirius raised his eyebrows, "I could find you someone—"

"I want you," he said quietly, through gritted teeth.

"It's too—we can't," she said, frowning. "So much has happened between us, Sirius," she continued as the wind gently lifted locks of her hair. "We shouldn't try to mend it."

Sirius swallowed heavily. "What if I just want you?"

Althea's neck prickled with warmth.

He pushed off from the railing. "What if I don't want to mend it?"

Althea furrowed her brow. "But you—"

Althea inhaled sharply at the touch of Sirius upon her skin. "For twelve years, I haven't felt anything," he said quietly and deliberately, "and now…"

It was impossible for Althea to suppress the pleasant tingling sensation that his hands upon her skin evoked. She fiercely bit her bottom lip at the thought of his lips upon her neck, the frenzied enthusiasm, his teeth on her skin, his fingers roughly kneading the satin fabric.

"You'd settle for a shag?"

She could see the faint pink of Sirius's cheeks in the moonlight. She recognized his confusion—the fog one would have after Azkaban. He might have looked as though he was a man, but he was no more than boy out of Hogwarts thrust into a war. Did he see the grey hair peak through her raven locks or the fine lines under her eyes?

"I'm not twenty, Sirius," she said and gently removed his hands from her. "So much has happened. I just can't—I was engaged."

Sirius's arms fell to his sides.

"Almost three years ago," she said, looking to her bare feet. "Derrick…a Muggle."

Althea slowly lifted her eyes to witness Sirius's wounded expression. He had never imagined his Althea in love with another man, and definitely not ready to commit her life to a man other than Sirius. That she had—to the best that she could manage—moved on and that Sirius remained in Azkaban was distressing for him. He raised his hand to his cheek and roughly rubbed the side of his face. He looked crestfallen at such a realization…that while he could never forget her in Azkaban, she might have forgotten about him.

"Where is he now?" he asked, his voice wavered slightly.

Althea slightly shrugged. "London."

Sirius nodded to himself. "Did he leave you before or after you told him that you were a witch?"

Althea's head jerked back.

"After," he sneered and brought his hand to her chin. He perched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "He didn't deserve you."

Althea grasped his arm, removing his hand from her face. "I think it best I say goodnight."

Sirius inhaled with frustration and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Goodnight, Sirius."

Sirius did not answer. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and exited the walk. Althea closed her eyes. The wind rustling the cedar trees, the rhythmic ocean, and the chorus of insects filled her ears. She entertained the thought of remaining until sunrise.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter 5**

Althea frowned as she entered the kitchen. "Isn't it a bit early?" she remarked, folding her arms as she approached the table.

A beam of early afternoon sun illuminated Sirius's dark hair as he sat—with an empty expression on his face—at the kitchen table. His hair uncombed and his clothes unchanged from the night before, his right hand grasped a bottle of her family's rum while his left hand dangled at his side. Before him was a solitary candle—the flame extinguished—the melted wax pooled and solidified onto her table.

"It's only noon," she replied, pointing to the clock on the wall.

Sirius—his eyelids half open—looked at the clock, scratched his unshaven jaw, and shrugged. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long sip as he looked at Althea.

"You haven't prepared lunch, have you?" she asked, looking toward the kitchen worktop.

"This is lunch," he muttered and took a gulp from the bottle. He placed the bottle on the table and slouched in his chair.

"Here," she offered, holding out her hand for the bottle, "I'll take that and I'll prepare some lunch for us."

Sirius slid the bottle away from Althea. "Liquid lunch for me, thanks," he replied and smiled humorlessly. "Why do you care?" he asked and took another sip. "Afraid I'll drink all your precious family rum?"

"No," she replied and attempted to grab the bottle from him.

He jerked the bottle away from her—droplets of rum splashing onto his wrinkled shirt.

"Sirius, you have it all over you—"

"So?" he snorted and smiled bitterly as he lifted the bottle to his lips. "As if you care, really," he remarked and took another gulp. "You're only worried I'll be sick on your lovely floor. How old is it? One hundred—two hundred years old?"

"I do care," she replied awkwardly and felt her face flush slightly. "It isn't healthy."

Sirius laughed a short, but loud, bark-like laugh. "Always a Healer, aren't you?" he replied, smirking. "Hold on," he continued, leaning forward and resting his elbows against the table, "Moony told me you're a professor now—Muggle Studies, right?"

Althea nodded.

"Is it true," he began slowly—a small crease developing between his eyebrows, "that Muggles are better at shagging?"

Althea groaned and gingerly rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Really, Sirius, this isn't—"

"You're the closest thing to a Muggle girl that I've shagged and—"

"Shut it!" she insisted, resting her palms against the table.

"You're no fun," he muttered, folding his arms. "At least with your knickers on."

"You're such an idiot," she replied and quickly reached for the bottle.

Sirius clutched the bottle to his chest. "Go ahead, further break my heart."

"You shouldn't drink to soothe your problems."

"Ha!" he laughed, slamming his hand against the table. "What do you know about my problems?"

Althea lifted her hands off the table in disbelief. "What do you think I did after everything that happened?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "I wanted to drink myself to death…. Please, give me the bottle."

"No."

"Stop being unreasonable," she replied, holding out her hand. "Please, give me the bottle."

Sirius lifted the bottle to his lips and defiantly downed a large gulp.

Althea sighed from aggravation. "Give me the bottle, or I'll transfigure you into a toad."

"An empty threat," he laughed and defiantly took another quick gulp of rum. "You couldn't transfigure a teacup."

"Fine," she said curtly and turned on her heel to take a teacup from the dresser.

She placed the teacup on the table, and Sirius eyed it with mild amusement as Althea took out her wand. She tapped her wand against the teacup rim, and the teacup wiggled and jerked, transforming into a small, brown toad. The two watched the toad hop along the table, and before it hopped off the table, she tapped the toad's back and it transformed into the teacup. Sirius frowned as he slid the bottle toward her.

"I mastered _that_ when I was twelve," she said, pouring the rest of the rum from the bottle into the sink.

"I was eight," he replied smugly and Althea rolled her eyes as she placed the empty bottle on the counter.

"Would you like me to cast a Sobering Charm for you?" she asked and Sirius nodded.

Althea rested her wand tip atop his head and muttered the charm. Sirius's demeanor quickly changed and he blinked rapidly as the charm coursed through his body.

"Thank you," he said, smoothing out his hair. "Oh, I look awful," he remarked, looking at his clothes. He sniffed his shirt and sneered. "I smell awful, too."

Althea sat across from him and rested her chin against her fist. "Did you really master that spell at eight?" she asked, incredulously narrowing her eyes at him.

Sirius nodded as he leaned back in his chair. "I nicked my father's spare wand and transfigured the teacup to entertain Regulus," he explained and smiled. "It hopped away and we spent the entire afternoon attempting to catch it. We never did. Well, until my mother discovered it as she took tea with Mrs. Lestrange."

"I bet that was a laugh," she replied as she imagined the two women screaming over a toad hopping about a tea set.

"It was…until my idiot brother told her it was me," he replied, and screwed his eyes up at his hair, blowing it out of his eyes.

"He was only seven—"

"He knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he told her," he interrupted—his expression grim. "Always the dutiful son."

"Oh," she murmured, leaning back in her chair.

She tapped her fingers against the table as Sirius grimly looked to the sink. He scratched the back of his head and sighed heavily before returning his gaze to her. _He'll end up like me_, she thought, forcing herself to smile—a weak smile at best. _He'll end up drunk and broken. He's thinking about it already…thinking about another bottle_.

"Right," she breathed as she stood, "would you like a piece of cake?"

"If it's too early for drink, then it's too early for cake."

Althea waved her hand dismissively and she uncovered the half-eaten chocolate cake. "Nonsense," she replied, cutting him a very large piece of cake. "I eat at least one piece of cake a day."

"I've noticed," he murmured and Althea quickly turned to face him. "I didn't mean that!" he replied, holding up his hands in front of him. "I meant, when I see you, you have a piece of cake." Sirius covered his face with his hands. "Oh bloody hell, that sounded horrible as well."

"It did," she replied, sliding her piece onto a plate, "but I understood what you meant." She licked the frosting from her thumb and smiled. "I do enjoy chocolate cake."

Althea placed plate and utensils before him and sat across from him, taking a bite of her own piece of cake. Sirius shrugged and took a bite of cake. Althea fought a smile as Sirius's demeanor transformed to a more jovial, relaxed state. _I'd rather have him fat than drunk_, she thought as Sirius greedily ate his piece of cake. She had to admit, as his time at her home continued, his handsome features were slowly returning—she enjoyed his easy smile—however, he would never be as handsome as he once was—it was not possible after all those years in Azkaban. In spite of this, his voice was similar (the smooth tone was replaced by a rough timbre, but the richness of his voice was still there), and his hair—the thick black locks—casually fell into his eyes as he sat, his head bent, eating cake. Althea resisted the urge to reach across the table and smooth it behind his ears.

"I want you to eat at least one piece of chocolate cake a day," she said, placing her fork on her plate. "I also recommend a Cheering Charm as well—it'll remove all that fog that's in your head," she continued, leaning back in her chair. "There's a very effective new Cheering Charm. I could teach it to you, if you'd like."

Sirius swallowed a large bite of cake. "What do you know about what's in my head?"

Althea shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I read about it in _Infusion_—the journal of the British Healing Society," she replied uneasily. "The new Cheering Charm is brilliant for this sort of thing."

_As if I could really tell him why I know what is in his head_, she thought, sitting up straight. _'Yes, Sirius, I understand completely because I was there too…. Remember, Kelly Derry? That was me, Sirius.' He'd never forgive me, I know it_. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he studied her. Althea nervously bit her bottom lip as a smirk played across his lips.

"So," he began, placing his fork on the empty plate, "today you're talking to me. What for?"

"I need to find Remus," she replied, blatantly ignoring his question, as she picked up her plate and stood. "Where is he?"

Sirius sighed disappointedly and frowned. "Out there," he replied, pointing over his shoulder. "Went for a walk."

"Right, thanks," she replied as she placed her plate in the sink.

"No problem, Althea," he murmured as she walked toward the door. "No problem."

As Althea walked along the dirt and grass-covered path, her mind could not abandon the notion that Sirius had spent the entire night in her kitchen and his only companion her family rum. Such a pathetic existence—to be in such a place with warmth and sun—to be cloistered in one's mind that cannot truly escape Azkaban. She couldn't give him what he wanted—herself—but the thought of him freely with another woman sickened her stomach. _Because you care for him_, she thought as she stooped to pick a small purple wildflower. Placing it in her hair, she continued on her walk. _Because you love him and it would hurt you more if he became you. He deserves to be happy…but happy with you_?

Althea's stomach tightened as she spotted Remus as he sat—his back to her—at the edge of the field overlooking shore. Remus heard her footsteps and turned, smiling, as he chewed on a long stem of flowering grass. Althea smiled weakly as she sat next to him—the soft, warm grass felt comforting against her skin. She inhaled deeply, the earthy, sweet smell of the grass warmed by the intense sun.

"A gentleman farmer," she remarked and Remus winked, continuing to hold the piece of grass between his teeth. "How long have you had that in your mouth?"

Remus took the piece of grass from his mouth and tossed it to his side. "I picked it just before I heard you," he explained, resting on his elbows. "I would enjoy a farm, though." He smiled to himself. "Remus Lupin, gentleman farmer."

Althea grinned mischievously as she lay next to him, looking up at the deep blue sky. "You could have the cottage, you know," she offered, noticing a small, fluffy, white cloud. "It hasn't been occupied in years."

"No, thank you," he replied, picking up a blade of grass and twirling it in his fingers. "I wouldn't enjoy the constant threat of Gran."

"I'll let her know that," she replied, pulling the blade of grass from his fingers, "when I must tell her the dreadful news that nothing transpired between us at Hogwarts."

Remus halfheartedly attempted to retrieve the lost blade. "Something _did_ transpire," he replied and sighed, "but it couldn't continue."

A strong breeze blew a few strands of Althea's hair into her face as she was about to speak. A strand caught in her mouth and she sat up, making a face as she sought to free it from her tongue.

"Bloody hell, do I hate when that happens," she muttered as she let the strand of hair drop onto the grass. She sneered at the strand and turned toward Remus who was smiling at her situation. "Anyway, is it true…about what you said last night? About Melania?"

Remus nodded and her stomach tightened. _He has moved on_, she thought, furrowing her eyebrows. _As if he would spend his evenings crying for you! You're absolutely ridiculous, Althea! What did you do, not even a week later? You slept with that Leif…and look at you! You don't even remember his last name_.

Althea frowned thoughtfully as she slightly tilted her head to the side. "Is she very pretty?" she asked and Remus frowned. "Prettier than me?"

"No, Althea, no one is prettier than you," he answered blankly.

"That is an outrageous lie," she replied and laughed awkwardly, lightly. "Really, I'd rather you be with a pretty girl—"

"Woman—"

"_Girl_ than an ugly one," she continued, stroking the tops of the blades of grass between them. "I want you to be happy. Is she…_pretty_, though?"

"Yes, and she's not a girl," he replied with a small smile. "She's not _twenty-two_."

Althea shrugged her shoulders. "I was upset."

"I was upset, too," he replied, taking hold of her hands. "Oh, Althea, it would never have worked anyway. You would tire of me and—"

"I wouldn't—"

"You would," he countered, squeezing her hands. "You would be absolutely bored by me. You'd fall asleep during another lecture I would ask you to attend, you would decide you had enough, and you would find a more exciting man."

"I find you very exciting," she replied, taking her hands from his, "and I don't find you the least bit tiring." She smiled a slow, impish grin. "On the contrary, I find you…" she paused for a moment, her grin broadening, "satisfying."

Remus fought to maintain a disapproving look, but his smiling eyes betrayed him.

Althea leisurely stroked her fingertips across the blades of grass. "Melania will be a very lucky girl—"

"_Woman_," he reminded, his lips twitching into a smile.

Althea sighed deeply with feigned boredom as she quickly retracted her hand from the grass. "Anyway, you're forgetting about our pledge."

"What pledge?"

"The pledge we made on my thirtieth birthday," she replied, the small mischievous smile returning her face. "If we're not married by forty, _we_ marry."

Remus laughed—a true laugh. "That isn't something to hope for," he replied and smiled wryly. "I only remember making that pledge because you were so distraught on turning thirty. 'Oh, Remus, I'm thirty. I'm _so old_. What will become of me? I'll become McGonagall. Oh, Remus, don't let that happen! Don't let me become McGonagall!'" he continued and did his best impersonation of a weepy Althea.

Althea fought to keep from snickering. "I suppose my dream of little adopted Lupins running about won't come true, then," she replied and Remus's expression turned dark. "What?"

Remus took a folded _Daily Prophet_ from his pocket. "Here," he said sadly, handing it to her, "read it."

Althea unfolded the _Daily Prophet_ and frowned as she read the article. _They won't allow werewolves to hold jobs in which they might come in contact with children—an expansion of the legislation approved last year_, she thought, her eyes widening as she felt enormous rage as she finished the article. _What is Remus supposed to do_?

"That bitch," she breathed, crumpling the paper in her hands.

Remus nodded. "You're incredibly kind," he replied, taking the crumpled paper from her. "I have to leave soon…I have to find work."

"I understand."

Remus sighed bitterly as he shoved the paper in his pocket. "I wish I didn't have to leave," he replied, looking out to sea.

Althea sat close to Remus and rested the side of her face against his shoulder. "Maybe you don't," she said. "I could ask—"

"I can manage," he said. "I always have."

Althea frowned and murmured, "Right."

"I'd hate to leave Sirius, though," he said and brought his knees to his chest. "He's better now—well, he still has his mad moments…a bit confused at times as well."

"I caught him drinking today."

"Ah."

"He still wore the clothes from the day before," she explained, linking her arm with his. "Did you see him?"

Remus nodded.

Althea hesitated before she said, "I don't want what happened to me, happen to him."

"You do care about him," he whispered and Althea felt him laugh. "Don't even protest," he continued as she lifted her head. "You do care for him."

Althea opened her mouth, but instead, frowned.

"Why are you wasting your time in an attempt to make him suffer?" he asked earnestly, stroking the loose hair away from her face. "He spent twelve years in Azkaban."

"I know," she muttered, refusing to look at him. "I let him rot there."

_The rejection won't be as difficult_, she thought, watching a honeybee land on a small yellow flower, _than after he knows everything_.

Remus turned her face toward his. "We all did," he replied, looking into her eyes. "Even Dumbledore."

Althea gently removed Remus's hand away from her face. "I look in his eyes and I see Azkaban," she replied, stroking a loose curl behind her ear. "He'll never lose that, Remus, and it will always remind me of what I did to him."

Remus lifted her face and stroked her cheek. "What do you think _I_ see when I look into your eyes," he replied and smiled warmly. "It doesn't matter to me."

"He'll hate me, though," she said quietly, looking at his chest. "If he ever learns of what I did—"

"He is incapable of hating you," he said with the utmost sincerity, resting his hands on her shoulders. "You're breaking his heart—"

"He broke mine—"

"Listen to me," Remus insisted, shaking her.

He looked down at the space between them. He wrinkled and unwrinkled his eyebrows, and his lips seemed to form words but no sound escaped them. He lifted his eyes, his expression of one about to tell a grave secret. Althea's belly tightened.

"I need to right this," he said earnestly, pulling her closer.

Althea arched her eyebrow. What did Remus have to confess? His demeanor was grave and urgent.

"I should've listened to you, but I thought you mad," he continued—his palms uncharacteristically sweaty, massaged her bare shoulders. "You had his child and—I did…I did everything to convince you that he belonged in Azkaban—"

Althea, her lips barely moved when she whispered, "Did you lie to me?"

Remus lowered his head and slowly released a breath. "I had to convince myself," he said and furrowed his brow. "I'm not—"

Althea removed his sweaty hands from her shoulders. The breeze cooled the warm perspiration. "Why?"

"You never—you never treated me differently…" he began and swallowed, seeming to force the words from himself, "and I loved you for it."

Althea, silent, did not reach for Remus's hand. Instead, she remained still. Remus sniffed loudly and pulled at the blades of grass. As they sat in silence, he seemed to pull the grass with more vigor.

"I've been so weak. I've—I've failed you," he said and growled, tightly shutting his eyes. "God, I should've—Prudence—I—"

"You weren't—"

Remus held his fingertips to her lips to quiet her.

"I regret leaving you. I saw what was happening to you—to us—but I couldn't," he said as if about to vomit—seemingly disgusted by himself. "I should've protected you. How many times had I…I used what I am to justify why I shouldn't?"

Althea blinked—the hot tears intermingled with her mascara and stung her eyes.

Remus continued to avoid her gaze as he continued, "I saw how deeply you loved…I _felt_ it. I treated you terribly—"

"As have I—good Lord, Leif—"

"I didn't deserve it," he sighed. "I didn't deserve your love."

"But I wanted—"

He lifted his wet eyes. "You deserve to be loved and I was too scared to love you."

Althea placed her palm upon his cheek.

Remus gently removed her hand and held it in his. "Sirius has never been afraid," he said. "I know you—"

"Don't—"

He sighed heavily, briefly looked at the sky, and then his eyes returned to Althea. "I know you remember last night's conversation…. Do you remember what he said?"

"Yes, how could I forget it? James—"

"No," he replied forcefully, shaking her. "He was ready to kill himself because he had nothing to live for—no James, no Lily, _no Althea_. He was going to kill Peter and then kill himself because he couldn't live without _you_," he explained, looking intently into her eyes. "Look, he spent twelve years in Azkaban, waiting for the right moment to escape and kill Peter—"

"But he didn't!" she replied heatedly, pushing away from him.

Remus quickly held onto her upper arms. "Did you ask what Harry wanted?" he asked shortly and Althea shook her head. "Harry didn't want us to kill Peter because he knew a worse fate awaited him—the Dementor's Kiss…. Althea, he was ready to kill Peter until Harry reminded him of a worse fate," he explained, his eyes searching her face for a response. "He would let a dementor suck out another man's soul for _you_."

Althea remained quiet. _I hadn't asked…I didn't think of asking for I was so angry with him_, she thought, and rested her forehead against his shoulder. _Not even I wanted that for Sirius when I thought he did those horrific things_. Althea started to cry, and Remus wrapped his arms tightly around her back.

"What have I done?" she whispered, horrified, as her body continued to heave as she cried. "I've ruined everything."

"You haven't…not yet," he whispered, stroking her back. "You want me to be happy, right?"

Althea nodded into his shoulder.

"I want you to return to your home and find Sirius," he explained into her ear, "and I want you to tell him that you love him—don't speak—you do love him…. No one will judge you…. You know the truth, now."

Althea lifted her head from his shoulder and wiped her eyes. "He'll hate me—"

"No—"

"_Yes_, if he ever discovers that Prudence is alive and what I did," she replied emphatically and looked toward the direction of her home. "I can't tell him. I don't have it in me to tell him."

"Then don't tell him…or tell him when you're ready," he replied, turning her face toward his. "If I have to hear him lament anymore for you, I'll scream."

Althea laughed quietly as she sniffed back tears. "You're incapable of screaming," she remarked and smiled sadly. "You're okay with this?"

Remus nodded as he smiled a small, bittersweet smile. "When I heard you murmur, 'I love you, Sirius,' as you slept after we made love," he explained, wiping wet strands of hair from her face, "I knew I couldn't compete with him."

Althea's heart fell to her stomach, and she flushed from embarrassment. She hastily wiped her eyes with her fingers. "Damn," she muttered, staring at her skirt. "Afina said I murmured it as well—I never knew I talked in my sleep."

"You do. You always have."

"Have I?"

Remus nodded. "Sirius thought it was great fun," he explained, reclining onto his elbows. "He'd ask you questions and then tell us the answers."

"What sort of questions?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If you ever fancied a professor was one question," he replied and started to chuckle, "and if you fancied Dumbledore."

Althea feigned a face of disgust. "What did I answer?"

Remus screwed up his eyes as he thought. "You said you thought the Ancient Runes professor was sort of good-looking…and you said you didn't fancy Dumbledore, but Lily wondered if he was sexy in his youth," he answered and glanced toward Althea.

"He wasn't _sort of good-looking_," she replied with a small smile, reclining next to him. "He was _very_ good-looking—stop laughing—but very _boring_," she explained as Remus coughed as he attempted to stop his laughter. "All my fantasies of youth were shattered that first year of teaching at Hogwarts. The dashing Professor Thornton was nothing more than a complete bore…and married."

"See," he said, resting his hands behind this head, "I'm just as boring."

"You are not."

"I let you read, what I thought to be an interesting article on the hinkypunk population in North America, and how do I discover you?" he remarked, looking from the sky to Althea. "Asleep at your desk."

"I'm always asleep at my desk," she replied, rolling her eyes. "My job is so bloody boring."

"You need an exciting man," he replied, matter-of-fact, and nodded in the direction of her house. "Sirius is available."

Althea looked out to sea and laughed humorlessly. "What sort of life will we have?"

"The life you should have been living these past twelve years—"

"Right, do you really think Sirius and I would still be together?" she remarked, and laughed darkly, stroking a curl behind her ear. "We wouldn't have lasted another year. Prudence would visit Sirius on weekends."

"You and I know that _you_ would be the one visiting Prudence on weekends," he corrected and Althea heard him grunt as he sat up.

"You're right. Prudence is _his_ daughter."

"Althea, eventually, he'll be found innocent."

"And?" she insisted, turning her head toward him.

Remus brought his knees to his chest. "And, in time, he would find a wife and have children," he explained, resting his chin against his upper arm. "Would you want Sirius in love with another woman?"

"_No_," she murmured and sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just as he wouldn't want me in love with another man. We would rather each other be miserable and alone than happy and in love with someone else. It's always been that way." Althea rested her chin on her folded arms. "I heard him, though—last night—the conversation you had with him. What wizard would want me?"

Remus remained silent.

"It's one of the few beliefs of his family that remains with him," she continued and took a deep breath. "I can't give him what he needs."

"He needs you."

"_Now_, but after he's cleared, he'd want a life with a family," she began, looking at her toes, "not a life with me."

"It could be years before he could clear himself," he suggested, "and he has what he needs."

Althea shook her head. "All we have is Prudence…all we'll ever have." She lifted her head and looked out to sea—grateful of the large ocean separating Prudence, Sirius, and the truth. "If he ever discovered that I abandoned our daughter to some Muggle couple," she began, and took a nervous breath, "I don't want to think what he would do. He'll take back what is his without consideration for his daughter. "

"_No_," he insisted softly, "Harry."

"Harry?" she asked, looking toward Remus.

Remus nodded slowly. "Before Peter escaped that night at Hogwarts, Sirius had asked Harry to live with him."

"Really?"

He nodded again. "Harry didn't buy the Firebolt, Sirius did."

"_He did_? How?"

"Does it matter?" he asked—a small smile crept across his face. "If he's not talking about you, he's talking about Harry. He talks of Harry as if his son," he continued and laughed quietly. "He's grown up…slightly."

Althea smiled. "He has…slightly," she agreed—her smile becoming bittersweet. "He wanted a son."

"Prudence is safe," he assured, resting his right hand against his chest. "I swear to you, I'll never tell."

"It's still wrong, though," she murmured and sighed ruefully. "I'm so afraid he'll discover somehow…. I've hidden everything. I've stopped carrying her photograph…afraid it'll fall out and he'll see. He despises lying—"

"You're not lying," he replied, tilting his head to the side and screwing up his eyes, "you're withholding the truth—"

"By letting him believe a lie," she interrupted, narrowing her eyes. "He knows there is something keeping me from him. I heard him—"

"I'd never tell him—"

"Why did you tell him I was alive? We wouldn't be in this mess if you had kept me dead," she replied, stretching her legs before her. "If he _ever_ discovers the truth he'll hate you as well."

Remus furrowed his eyebrows, frowning.

"Why did you tell?"

"I didn't," he replied, his expression softening, "you did."

She hadn't…had she? _The night at Hogwarts, when I wanted to kill him_, she thought, feeling the color drain from her face. _He must've remembered_.

"When?" she forced herself to ask, her voice wavering as she turned her body to face him.

"When you responded to my letter," he answered, smoothing the hair away from his face as the breeze picked up again. "He untied the letter and recognized your handwriting before he saw your name. He sat at the kitchen table and refused to hand me the letter."

"He was very angry with you, then?"

Remus shook his head. "He was very happy and, contrary to what you believe, he didn't want to meet you," he explained. "I had to convince him that you wouldn't kill him and that you'd believe the truth."

"Why wouldn't I want to believe the truth that he's innocent?"

"Why are you treating him as if he wasn't?" he replied, looking into her eyes. "He's happy that you're alive and that you believe him."

"But—"

"If you tell him you love him," he interrupted, resting his hands on her shoulders, "nothing else will matter to him."

"We can't mend it—"

"Yes, you can," he countered. "In time, when you're ready, you can tell him everything and he'll still love you, I'm sure of it. How many men from your past can you say that about?"

"You."

Remus let out a quiet laugh. "I don't count."

"Why must you be so selfless?" she asked, with a weak frown.

"I'm very selfish," he replied, his lips twisting into a small smile. "I'm tired of listening to Sirius's comments about all the things he'll do to you after twelve years. It's become a bit old…but creative," he continued and paused, thinking, "very creative."

Althea's cheeks flushed with warmth.

"I believe," he began and pointed in the direction of Althea's house, "that if you return and ask for his forgiveness, he'll forgive you."

"You believe so?"

"No doubt," he replied, resting his hands on her shoulders. "He loves you more than I—or any man—could."

_To love me that much after all these years_, she thought, looking at her folded hands. _Could you, Althea, say the same_?

"Yes," she replied, looking up at Remus. "Yes, I'll go."

* * *

Althea's trembling hand grasped the smooth railing as she ascended the staircase, her legs shaking with each step upward. _You can mend this_, she thought as she reached the top step. She stopped and frowned, rethinking her resolve. _Stop doubting yourself, Althea. You're right to ask for his forgiveness_.

"He'd let a dementor suck out another man's soul for you," she murmured, a sick shiver radiating from her spine at her memory of the Dementor's Kiss.

Taking a deep and steady breath, she continued to walk toward her childhood bedroom and noticed the door ajar—the mid-afternoon sun illuminating the edges of the white-painted door. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, adjusted her bra through her bodice, and fixed her hair in the mirror between their bedrooms as she rehearsed her part of the conversation. _Tell him you understand now_, she thought as she took one last look in the mirror. _You're sorry for all the horrible things you said to him since your arrival…. You were afraid at what you'd hear, but—but…bloody hell, I'm still afraid_.

"He needs you, though," she murmured as she approached the partially open door.

_Who was the last man that needed you_?

"Sirius," she said, frowning slightly as she knocked. Did she sound too eager? "May I come in?"

Sirius grunted and Althea insinuated his answer was yes. She opened the door and cringed as the door squeaked and groaned on its hinges. Sirius had not moved; he continued to sit in the window niche—his knees to his chest, intently reading one of her journals. His head bent, clean locks of hair effortlessly fell into his eyes—a few of the strands moved as he blinked; his smooth, shaven jaw softened as he read; and as Althea's eyes traveled his profile, she smiled as his toes wiggled under his long, linen trousers.

"That charm was supposed to last for at least two years," she remarked, poorly attempting make conversation. "The door was charmed last summer."

"I broke the charm," he said plainly, turning the page. "I wanted to hear who'd enter."

"Afraid I'll hex you if I caught you reading one of my journals?" she asked and Sirius shrugged, refusing to look up from the journal. "I never wrote about losing my virginity, if that's what you're looking for."

Sirius shook his head. "You and Lily were very naughty," he replied, closing the journal. "The things you'd have poor Jane do—"

"Jane isn't _that_ poor," she commented, leaning against the bedpost. "She is one of the wealthiest women in all of Wizarding France."

"Is she?" he murmured and thoughtfully furrowed his eyebrows. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke, "I never really realized just how much she fancied me."

"More like obsessed," she corrected, folding her arms. "She's deliriously happy with her husband and _five_ children…so what I've heard."

Sirius turned to face her, resting his feet against her floor. "You haven't spoken with her?"

Althea shook her head. "No, we haven't spoken since she attended Lily's funeral," she answered, kicking her heel against the floor. "She blamed me for Lily's death."

"You?" he asked, leaning forward. "You had nothing to do with it!"

"I dated you," she replied and slammed her heel against the floor, "therefore I encouraged Lily to date James, they married, and we know the rest."

Sirius sighed sadly and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at the journal in his hands.

"Don't," she replied, unfolding her arms, "she's an idiot."

Sirius lifted his head as he let out a loud, bark-like laugh.

"Anyway," she began, pointing to the journal, "what year?"

"Oh," he said, looking to the book in his hands and smiling, "seventh year."

Althea smirked as she rested the back of her head against the bedpost and Sirius winked at her. "You just want to read about our first time," she remarked and giggled deeply.

"Already have," he replied and winked, placing the journal next to him.

He leaned his back against the window and studied her—his eyes casually traveling up her feet, her legs, her hips, her torso, her breasts, and met her eyes. The back of Althea's neck prickled with warmth, and Sirius stretched his long legs and crossed them at the ankles.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I would like to speak with you," she answered and gently bit her bottom lip.

"Speak with me?" he repeated, resting the back of his head against the window—his eyes looking up at the ceiling. "You won't throw anything at me, will you?" he asked with a small grin.

"No," she replied, massaging her upper arms.

Sirius's eyes looked from the ceiling to her, and he lifted his head, aware of her apprehension. "Right," he said, sitting up.

"Please," she began as she sat on the unmade bed, "I'd like you to sit here…with me."

Sirius sighed and stood, and Althea's eyes followed him as he walked toward the bed and sat at her side. As she was about to speak, she looked into his eyes and caught her breath; she decided she would look at her folded hands instead.

"You—you would let a dementor suck out a man's soul?"

"Yes."

Althea sharply inhaled a shallow breath—a cold, clammy feeling washing over her insides. No regret or apprehension could be noted in his voice. It was clear and quiet, but powerful.

"I care for you a great deal," she blurted, rubbing her hands together. "Your opinion means everything to me."

Sirius laughed quietly. "It never did before."

"It does now," she replied and took another shallow, nervous breath. "Are you angry with me?"

Sirius did not answer.

"Are you angry that I let you rot there? That I did nothing?"

Sirius was silent.

Althea continued to look at her hands, her nails, and decided that she—on Thursday—would travel to Hamilton to have a manicure. "At first," she began to explain, her right thumb chipping away at the nail polish on her left index finger, "I didn't believe that you could do those horrible things. Others went about to convince me—"

"Others?"

"Gran, Remus, Dumbledore," she answered and inhaled a shaky breath. "Dumbledore presented me with the evidence he had against you…someone close to Lily and James was passing information, you were their Secret Keeper, and you'd used Dark Spells on more than one occasion."

Althea quickly glanced up to see Sirius's expression…was it disappointment? _I was the one person who should have believed him and I didn't_, she thought, returning her gaze to her hands. _He should be more than disappointed with me. He should be enraged_.

"I couldn't believe you were the spy, though," she said in earnest, "for if there was one thing you hated beyond all things, it was your family—you hated it so much you left. I—I know what Bellatrix did to you…what Lucius and Rodolphus did to you—"

Sirius inhaled a sharp breath.

"James was your family and you wouldn't…." Large, warm tears slide down Althea's cheeks, dropping onto her hands. "Others kept reminding me of what you did and I felt enormous guilt…I still loved the man that betrayed my best friend. I couldn't automatically stop loving you," she explained—her throat painfully tight. "I was treated like a freak because of my feelings for you…. I learned that what I felt for you was abnormal and wrong, and somehow it translated to that _I_ was abnormal and wrong."

"Oh, Althea, I—"

"No," she replied firmly, lifting her face—her eyes looking into his. "You shouldn't love me. I've been so selfish…so angry at what you've done when you haven't done anything at all…. You should hate me."

"I don't hate you," he replied, placing his hand over hers. "I can't hate you."

"I've betrayed you," she replied, not removing her gaze from his. "I've betrayed you in the most horrible of ways." She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and slowly released it—feeling her body relax slightly. "Forgive me."

"There's nothing—"

"_Yes_, there is," she insisted, leaning forward. "I've treated you horribly and I should have done more to help you."

"It doesn't matter now," he replied, his fingertips gently stroking her cheek.

Althea closed her eyes, enjoying the way his cool fingertips felt against her skin—his fingertips were still very soft.

"No one would have listened to you and you might have ended up in Azkaban…. I'd never want that."

_If you only knew_, she thought, small tears trickling down her cheeks as she opened her eyes. He tenderly cupped her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers.

"Don't cry," he whispered, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "What ever happened, I forgive you…. You did what needed to be done…. I love you."

Althea smiled, her fingertips delicately stroking the side of his face. The heaviness she felt slowly lifted from her body—he forgave her. She let out a small, relieved laugh and Sirius grinned—the harsh lines on his thin face softening.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, closing his eyes. "I'll understand—"

It still felt…wrong. Despite Remus's insistence, Althea knew that if Sirius discovered the larger truths about her, he would not be so forgiving. She refused to have Sirius played the fool. He deserved the truth and a woman who could do so. Althea's stomach turned sour. She was never more a coward.

"Don't," she spoke, placing her fingertips atop his parted lips.

She pulled away from him to his obvious frustration. "What will it take, Althea?" he asked, his expression exhibiting a mixture of irritation and desperation.

Althea's mind spun with excuses. "I shagged John Harrington," she blurted out.

Sirius blinked. "John Harrington?"

She lightly licked her bottom lip. "It—it was a ages ago, and—"

"Oh."

"It was in the papers and—my legs—and you could see those photos—"

Sirius, looking a bit confused, shrugged. "I don't care," he said and cupped her face in his hands. "I really don't. You shouldn't have moped about."

Althea caught her breath.

"But it was John Harrington—"

"I don't care if it was bloody Alexander Star—"

Althea faintly cringed.

"The point is," he continued, resting his forehead against hers, "I love you and I know you love me…. What else is there?"

_What else is there_, she thought as Sirius waited for her reply.

"Come on, lovely," he murmured and leisurely closed his eyes—her pulse quickened.

His breath warmed her lips—it smelled of strawberries. Althea hesitated. _What else_?

"Friendship."

Sirius let out a soft growl. "Fine," he said, pulling away from her. "Friendship."


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter 6**

_"Hello, lovely," Sirius murmured as he slipped his arms around her waist. _

_Althea smiled as she pulled his arms tighter around her, leaning her back against his chest. Her kitchen gardens were in full bloom and the early morning sun accentuated the sweet fragrance. They still slept in separate rooms—Althea had not invited Sirius to her bed. They were friends with a history as lovers, and the two would remain as such—both eager to consummate their renewed relationship, but reluctant with the presence of their houseguest. Still, it felt odd, and Althea wondered even if Remus would depart that it would remain so. _He doesn't care_, she reminded herself. _

_"You're awake early," he remarked. He unhurriedly kissed the nape of her neck and nestled his chin on her shoulder, which caused her to smile. _

_"I wasn't up late working," she replied, watching as a small, white butterfly landed on the veranda railing. _

_"Working?" he repeated and kissed her bare shoulder. "Muggle Studies work?" _

_"No," she answered and laughed quietly. "You find it very amusing that I'm a professor, don't you?" _

_"I do," he murmured as they gently swayed back and forth. "You giving homework and detentions, two things you absolutely hated." _

_"I still hate them," she replied, closing her eyes. "I believe I'm the only professor that didn't give homework over the Summer Holiday." _

_"It is Muggle Studies." _

_A small tinge of embarrassment filled her stomach…it was just Muggle Studies. _I'm just a joke—he can't even take my job seriously_, she thought, growing more uncomfortable. _He must wonder why I took the job. It wasn't what I planned to do_. _

_"Mind yourself," she began, opening her eyes, "after your name is cleared, Dumbledore might hire you." _

_Sirius chuckled against her as he playfully tugged at the thin shoulder strap of her sundress. "To teach what?" he laughed and fiercely kissed her shoulder. _

_"I don't know," she spoke slowly, her eyes drifting upward and noticing a small cobweb in the corner between two support beams. "You could enliven History of Magic." _

_Althea felt Sirius throw his head back as he laughed loudly. "With what? A reenactment of the Goblin Rebellion of 1612?" he joked, resting his face in her hair—his breath warming her neck. "I couldn't make that class exciting…which is a _huge_ statement." _

_Althea furrowed her eyebrows as she thought about his future Hogwarts profession, and soon, a wicked grin encompassed her lips. "Potions?" she suggested as Sirius's fingers swept the thick locks of hair away from her neck. "Dumbledore could always fire Snape and hire you—"_

_"No," he murmured, unimpressed, nuzzling her neck, "although Dumbledore should fire that filth. I'd prefer something else…Defense Against the Dark Arts, perhaps?" _

_It was Althea's turn to laugh. "You aren't being serious—" _

_"What if I was?" he asked as Althea felt him straighten himself. "I reckon I'm the most qualified—"_

_"Owl your résumé to Dumbledore and see if he accepts," she quipped, her hands stroking his arms as she continued to laugh. She sighed wistfully and smiled. "It'd be brilliant if you were there." _

_"It'd be brilliant if you stayed here." _

_"I know," she sighed, looking out across her vegetable garden—the tomatoes were almost ripe. "Who'd want to teach Muggle Studies, though?" _

_"He'd find someone—"_

_"No, he wouldn't," she said, frowning slightly. "No one would want the job." _

_"Why did you—"_

_"I'll be home on weekends," she interrupted, slipping her hand underneath his hand. "Christmas holiday and Easter holiday as well." _

_"Every weekend?"_

_"I'll try." _

_"You'll be exhausted," he replied, grasping her hand, "and we'll both be very lonely during the weekdays." _

_"We'll compensate on weekends," she explained and smiled as Sirius groaned. "Will you return with me to Hogwarts, then?" _

_"Excellent," he murmured and forcefully kissed the nape of her neck. "I'll stay in your quarters." _

_"Snape would suspect—"_

_"Let him," he snorted, and she quickly pulled away and turned to face him. _

_"No!" she pleaded, laying her hands on his chest. "He'd notify the Ministry…and I'd die if I lost you," she said, resting her face against the hollow of his shoulder. _

_Sirius lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger and solemnly looked into her eyes. "I'd die before I'd let them take me." _

_"I know," she replied, her lips trembling into a frown. "I can't lose you." _

_Sirius's mouth twitched into a small, appreciative smile. "I'll live for a very long time," he assured and kissed her cheek. "You'll become sick of me." _

_"Never," she murmured, allowing her fingertips to glide up and down his chest. "We have twelve years to make up for." _

_Before Althea could pull away, Sirius pulled her close—her head snapping back—and with a smirk, he kissed her—his kiss passionate, but overtly possessive. Uncomfortable, she pressed the palms of her hands into his chest, in an attempt to push away, but Sirius's grip tightened. She felt the nauseating squeeze of Apparition and opened her eyes to the sunlight of her bedroom. _

_She licked her swollen bottom lip. "But, I thought—"_

_Sirius smirked. "Silencing Charms…"_

Althea vigorously shook her head. She heard chuckling behind her. She blinked, rubbing her forehead, as she turned to face the two men. Sirius—amused—stood in the doorway that led to the veranda, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. Remus stood next to him, smiling as well. Althea felt her cheeks flush and she sheepishly tucked a curl behind her ear. How long had the two men stood there as she daydreamed?

She looked at her sandaled feet as Remus spoke, "_Daily Prophet_'s here…. Padfoot's supposedly in Saint Tropez now."

Sirius sighed and smiled smugly as he leaned against the veranda railing. "Cyprus…Alexandria…Saint Tropez," he said, resting the back of his head against the white column, "I believe the Aurors just want a holiday."

"It could be," Remus replied, his lips twisted into a smirk. "If we read next the Aurors searching a topless beach, we'll find it highly suspect."

Sirius closed his eyes and laughed a deep, quiet laugh. "Moody at a topless beach," he remarked, the volume of his laughter raised as he continued his thought.

"It wouldn't matter—"

"I know," Sirius replied, matter-of-fact, "I'm imagining Moody in disguise. I reckon those legs—excuse me, leg—have never felt the sun." He slightly opened his left eye—his grey eye peeking through the thick, black lashes—it directed at Althea. He smiled wickedly. "'Constant vigilance, Black! Don't be caught off guard by a Death Eater with your trousers about your ankles,'" he mimicked in a mediocre impersonation of Moody.

"I'm surprised you didn't fight naked, then," she remarked, sitting atop the veranda railing.

"I threatened to," he replied and sighed with feigned disappointment, "but James intervened." He opened his eyes wide and turned his attention to Remus. "Is Moody still working?"

"No," Remus replied, unfolding his arms and standing up straight, "he's retired. Well-deserved, too."

"Indeed, mate," he agreed, scratching the top of his head. Smoothing his hair, he smiled and winked conspiratorially at Althea. "Right," he began, casually crossing his leg in front of him, "what had you so pensive?"

Althea fought a frown. "I believe I'll have a look at the _Daily Prophet_," she said uneasily as she stood from the railing. "I'll leave you both to talk."

Althea sighed as she entered the kitchen, and she smoothed the hair away from her face as she looked at the unrolled _Daily Prophet_ on the table. The prison photograph of Sirius on the front page caused her to shudder. After she sat in the chair, her fingertips slid the _Daily Prophet_ closer to her and she took in a deep gulp of air. The thick, matted, dirty hair hung to his elbows and partially covered his emaciated face as he continued to sneer. She lifted her eyes to look out her kitchen window at Sirius. To her relief and delight, he did not look like that man in the photograph. He was happy and smiling, and not the menacing, crazed man in the newspaper. It was her Sirius. Sirius continued to lean against the column as Remus spoke with him, and ever so often, Sirius's eyes would wander to look at Althea. Althea produced a meager smile. _He forgave you_, she thought, looking at the photograph. _It doesn't matter to him_.

"But it does matter," she murmured, scanning the article.

_He doesn't know everything_, she thought as she read about the Muggle couple that spotted Sirius sunbathing. _So much has happened and he wants to continue as if he never left_. She was not in her early twenties anymore, but strangely, Sirius was—or at least his mind was that of a twenty-something boy. He was a living relic of her past, of the time when all Althea had to care about was if Sirius would return home on his motorbike unscathed from a duel with a Death Eater. She never felt so old.

"Maybe you should follow his lead," she muttered, flipping through the _Daily Prophet_ to page four to continue the article, "and forget…. You've forgotten yourself."

Althea sat upright as she heard them walk toward the kitchen door.

"It's a gift," Sirius said as they entered. "Take it. We have loads of spare cases."

Remus laughed uncomfortably as he sat across from Althea. "Thank you, but—"

"For once," Sirius interrupted, leaning forward from his chair, "forget your misplaced pride and accept a gift."

"I've been telling him for years, Sirius. It won't work," she remarked and gasped at the photograph on the next page. "Oh, no," she muttered, her eyes widening as she looked upon the toad-faced woman with the hideous, pink bow in her hair.

Sirius placed his hand on her forearm. "What's wrong?"

Althea continued to stare at the woman, who by her photograph was frowning deeply at the addendum to the werewolf legislation that did not pass. "Werewolf sweat," she murmured in disbelief, her eyes becoming painfully dry from lack of blinking. "I know her."

Althea felt her hands start to tremble and she quickly retracted them under the table. _She's the woman—the woman who was before me at Pulcheria Oswin's book signing_. She blinked—the image of the toad-faced woman gazing upon Oswin adoringly flashed in her mind's eye. A joke to Althea, the woman took such garbage as fact. And now, in her current position within the Ministry, she was able to introduce legislation to satisfy those beliefs at the peril of Remus's future.

"Who?" Sirius asked and grabbed the newspaper that was before her. Sirius looked at the picture and shuddered, making a face. "How do you know _her_?" he asked incredulously, pointing to the woman's photograph. "She's the bitch that wants to ruin Remus's life!"

Althea shyly looked at Remus. "Well, I don't _know_ her," she replied quietly, wringing her hands in her lap. "I met her briefly…once."

"Where?" he snorted, leaning back in his chair.

She took a nervous breath and laughed quietly, awkwardly. "Oh, at a book signing a few years ago," she explained, refusing to look Sirius in the eye.

"What could you possibly have in common with this—this ungodly, awful-looking woman?"

She looked at Remus once more, and he gave her a warning look. "I was in queue—ghastly woman," she said and chewed her bottom lip. "Believed all the awful and ridiculous things said about werewolves…you know, like werecubs and that werewolf sweat was an aphrodisiac—"

Sirius's bark-like laughter filled her kitchen. "Right, Althea," he laughed, looking at Althea with great amusement. "Moony's a bit sweaty after all the packing he's done, do you fancy him?"

Continuing to laugh, he looked to Remus. The right corner of Remus's mouth lifted in a humorless smile. Sirius seemed to revel in his clueless teasing of the pair. Uneasiness befell Althea's stomach. _God, Sirius, don't_, she thought, massaging her abdomen.

Althea hiccoughed as she looked from Remus back to Sirius. "No," she replied and bit her bottom lip.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked eagerly, leaning forward in his chair with a mischievous grin. "We could have him run about for a few minutes and see."

"No, it's not necessary," she replied, fidgeting in her chair. "It's not true."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively as he sat back. "Of course, it isn't true," he scoffed, tossing the newspaper toward Remus. "What sort of book signing was this anyway?"

Althea inhaled sharply. She looked to her hands and closed her eyes. What other photographs would she have to conceal? What innocuous word or phrase would remind her of her past and would begin questions she was reluctant to answer? _I knew this wouldn't last_, she thought, fighting the urge to start crying and blurting out her entire past. Slowly, she opened her eyes and continued to look at her hands, now white from clenching them tightly together.

"It was a book signing for Pulcheria Oswin," she said quietly.

For a few moments, Sirius remained quiet, and finally, she heard him sigh. _Oh, God, he'll want to know why and it will all fall apart_, she thought, nervously looking up at him.

"She was a Death Eater, Althea," Sirius said, his chair on its back two legs. "Why would you—"

"I know," she muttered, her stomach collapsing on itself. "She was my father's colleague and lover…and she betrayed him."

With a loud _crack_, Sirius's chair slammed against the kitchen floor. His face was very pale and he remained silent. _He knows_, she thought, catching her breath. It was no use to hide her secret anymore. She would have to tell him her secret of Kelly Derry. She chewed her bottom lip—at least of Oswin, but she knew Sirius would conclude the rest. _He might understand if I tell him the circumstances_, she thought, looking toward Remus. Remus's mouth was slightly open, somewhat thunderstruck, and his eyebrows were deeply furrowed. He shook his head slightly as if begging her not to tell. Althea inhaled a ragged breath as she looked from Remus to Sirius. _They were Death Eaters after all_.

"She was the one?" Sirius asked.

Althea nodded.

Sirius licked his lips and guiltily looked ahead of him.

"I wanted to expose her for what she was, but—"

"But you didn't have the chance," Sirius continued, his expression grim, "that Derry killed her."

It felt as though someone had poured a pitcher ice water down her chest and abdomen, which caused her to catch her breath.

"Yes," she whispered, placing her hands on the table to steady herself, "that Derry killed her." She looked to her hands and remembered the warm, oozing blood of Pulcheria Oswin on them. "You have to understand that I was different then. I had so much rage inside me. I felt betrayed by everyone I loved…my father…you…and to some extent, Lily—"

"Lily?"

Althea nodded sadly. "None of you were supposed to leave—see, I wasn't in my right mind," she explained, curling her fingers. "I don't believe I am now, either…." She inhaled a slow, deep breath and loudly exhaled, furrowing her eyebrows. "I thought that if I'd do this one thing…that I'd have everything back. I didn't know I could, but I was so desperate—"

"We all were desperate," Remus interrupted and Althea heard him shift in his seat. "We all have regrets…. I regret not taking better care of you, Althea."

Althea looked up from her hands to Remus. "It is my fault," she replied, her eyes beseeching him to let her tell Sirius. "No one else is to blame."

Her eyes traveled to Sirius, who was looking at her with the utmost confusion.

"I went to expose her for what she was, but I didn't have enough proof," she explained, her voice somewhat pleading. "I needed time. I needed her to trust me...and that's where I went horribly wrong—"

"Don't regret that you didn't have a chance to expose Oswin," Sirius said and his lips upturned into a faint, cruel smile. "Derry saved you the trouble of a trial."

"Oh, God," she breathed.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to stand from the table and shout at him that, unhinged by war and loss, it was she who plunged the knife in Oswin's abdomen and left her to die. It was she who forced Hare to swallow a bag of Galleons and ruthlessly taunted Burke before she slit their throats, and laughed at Wakefield's fiancée at trial. Sirius Black unknowingly sat across from the murderess, and she was too overcome with fear to let the words escape her.

"A nasty piece of work," Sirius replied and scratched his chin.

"Yes—yes, she was," she replied weakly—a sob caught in her throat.

"Look, the national team was named," Remus said, pointing to the sport section of the _Prophet_. "I reckon that's more—"

"I remember her, though—Derry," he said quietly, seeming to look through the table. "I remember all of them." He sighed deeply and chewed his bottom lip, as Althea remained quiet. He rubbed the side of his face with his palm and continued, "I feel sorry for her now…. They brought her past my cell…. She had this wild red hair and this massive rage—"

Althea saw the happiness drain from him—the dark, tormented shell of an Azkaban prisoner remained. She had to stop this.

"Let's not speak of this," she interrupted as Sirius went further inside himself. "This isn't necessary. Please, it's—"

"—I looked at her, and for a moment, I thought it was you," he continued and looked into her eyes. "Ridiculous, right?"

Althea's fingernails dug into the wood grain of the table as she nodded. In Alexandria, Allegra spoke of the moment Althea was carried past Sirius's cell—as though he saw a ghost. She swallowed. His expression was so sad, so pathetic—his fragility frightened her. _In time, when he's recovered_, she thought, her fingernails leaving marks in the table. _Just be his Althea_.

"She would scream that I killed you" he explained and paused, furrowing his eyebrows. "How—how could she? You're alive and—"

Althea inhaled an uncomfortable breath. "To be cruel," she whispered.

Sirius nodded slowly. "Maybe," he murmured and Althea exhaled a slow breath.

Without provocation, Sirius lifted his sleeve to show a small scar on his bicep. _I did that to him_, she thought as Sirius explained how he received the scar. They would shout to outdo one another. There was no true joy in Azkaban, but one could find enjoyment in torment and pain. She felt a pleasurable release when she knew the sharpened chair leg had connected with flesh. She laughed at his yelps of pain and the filthy words he called her.

"Please," she began, her voice strained, "let me mend that for you."

"No—really—it's all right," he replied, unrolling his sleeve. "I could've removed it if I wanted to—"

"You don't?" she asked, her throat painfully constricted.

"I don't," he answered, resting his hand over where the scar would be. "

It's a reminder."

Althea's stomach twisted. "Of what?"

"Of what could happen to all of us—"

"Right," Remus said, standing. "I'm thirsty. Is anyone else thirsty? Althea?" he asked and Althea gave him a grateful look.

"Yes," she said hoarsely, furrowing her eyebrows. "I'm very thirsty, thank you."

"No, mate," Sirius answered and frowned thoughtfully. "I need a walk, though."

"Are you sure?" Remus asked, taking three tall glasses from the cupboard.

"Yeah," he said, standing. He nodded as he mentally solidified his decision. "Yeah, a walk…and I probably should feed Buckbeak."

As soon as Sirius exited, Althea leaned forward, resting her head against her folded arms. _He remembers everything_, she thought as she shook from crying. _I had to lie to him again! I'm such a coward…but he was so pathetic, I couldn't. Oh, if only I hadn't seen that odious woman's face in the newspaper! How many more lies will I have to tell…? I wish I could strangle her with that bloody pink ribbon_!

Althea heard Remus slide a chair to her side. "I'm sorry," he said ruefully, gently gliding his hand up and down her back. "I hadn't read it—I just read the front page—if I'd known—"

"There was no way," she forced herself to say, choking on tears.

Althea sat up, wiped the wet hair away from her face, and looked to Remus. She hiccoughed as she opened her mouth to speak. Instead, she rested her tear-stained face against' Remus' shoulder, and Remus's arms reluctantly embraced her. Was lying to Sirius the answer? Was it not better to tell him the truth, instead of investing herself in him only to have him forsake her? To hate her? _What is better_, she asked herself, her face and Remus' shoulder moist with her tears, _to have him hate me now or to have him hate me later_? Althea envisioned Sirius discovering on his own the truth of her murderous past. She clutched Remus's robes as she thought of his rage, his disgust, and his outright hatred of her for keeping such an enormous secret.

"You know," he murmured, "Sirius could return and it wouldn't look good if I was holding you."

"I don't care," she replied and sniffed loudly. "I can't lie to him anymore…. I have to tell him everything."

"Everything? Oh, Althea, no," he warned quietly, stroking the back of her head. "He's so happy…. Don't ruin this," he insisted, lifting her face from his shoulder. "He's safe here, and if you tell him, he'll leave. He could be captured or killed and you'd never forgive yourself then…. You have a second chance—"

"We're not together," she corrected and sniffed back more tears. "Friends and nothing more."

Remus frowned thoughtfully. "I doubt you'll have a another chance," he replied, stroking her chin with his thumb. "Tell him in sixty years or so when he's absolutely dependent upon you, and you're the only person that can find his misplaced reading glasses."

"It's so easy for you to say," she said, frowningly deeply. "You have nothing to lose—"

"I have everything," he replied. "There many things he's never told you, Althea. Things, I believe, you would never forgive."

"Like what?" she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

"Just know that he has his secrets too—all of us do," he answered, narrowing his eyes. "Some things are better left unsaid."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter 7**

_It is best not to tell Sirius_, she thought and cast the charm to wash her glass and the other dishes in the sink. Hot water spilled from the tap and splashed against the plates, creating a green foam. _Remus is right; it is better to leave things unsaid. Sirius couldn't handle it now_. She would lose her ally in complicity soon. Remus was to leave to find work and the couple would be alone. She swallowed at the thought. She had contemplated leaving as well, but she knew Sirius would follow.

"Must you go?" she asked and narrowed her eyes in concentration to bring the brush to the dishes.

"I don't have a choice," he sighed as he leaned against the kitchen worktop. He glanced toward the sink and turned her hand slightly clockwise.

She mustered a smile. "Precisely why I need you," she said as the brush gently scrubbed a dish patterned with delicate blue flowers. "I would've broken it."

"You're brilliant at Repair Charms," he said and flicked at the soap bubbles. "I have to find work."

"We might kill one another—"

"You've had loads of chances," he said and Althea frowned at him as she leaned against the worktop next to him. "It's true," he said and cracked a wry smile. "Admit it, you enjoy his company."

"Likely," she muttered, folding her arms as she looked out into her vegetable garden.

"I catch you laughing at his jokes," he said and leaned close. "I wasn't fooled by your hardened exterior at fifteen and I'm not fooled now—"

Sirius approached up the walk, cradling something in his arms, which caught her attention.

"What is—oh, the poor thing," she said and lifted herself from the worktop.

She walked quickly to meet Sirius at the door. He unfolded his arms, and presented her with the small, brown owl. A large package, wrapped in purple paper, was tied neatly to its legs. An owl such as that was inappropriate to carry such a large package across great distances. By its tiny stature, it was meant for local post only.

"He fell out of the sky," he explained, scratching the top of the owl's head. "I'm surprised he didn't fall sooner with such a large package tied to him."

"Here," she said, pulling out the chair for him to sit. "Untie the package and I'll bring some water."

"Right, thanks," he murmured, cradling the owl as he sat in the chair.

"Did you enjoy your walk then?" she asked as she opened the cupboard.

"Yeah," he breathed, "until this poor owl fell from the sky."

Althea looked over her shoulder at the owl and to Sirius, who had untied the package from it. Sirius affectionately scratched the owl under its beak.

"He is so very small," she replied, smiling sweetly at the pitiful owl. "Where did he come from?"

Sirius looked at the address. "England," he answered and laughed. "You used to do this," he remarked as Althea took a small, green bowl from the cupboard.

"What?"

"Charm the scenes you drew on envelopes and packages," he replied and chuckled, "except it's written in pink ink and not purple."

What had Afina sent her from England? In her last owl, Afina—after lamenting at her stay with Gran—promised she would send Althea something more suitable for her younger, hipper image. It was such a small box. Althea's lips upturned into a mischievous smile. _What could be so small_?

"Must be Afina, then," she replied, filling the bowl with water. "She's very creative."

"No," he said slowly, "it's from Miss Prudence R. Parker of Durbeyfield."

The bowl slipped from Althea's hands and she quickly caught it—the water spilling onto her forearms. Panic filled her insides. She cursed her daughter's cleverness. Remus hastily handed her a towel and she nervously dried her arms. _Aren't you having a good laugh_, she thought, looking up toward the ceiling. _Why not ruin everything? Send all of my ex-lovers here on flying carpets_! Remus gently nudged her forward. With great reluctance, she stepped toward the table and Sirius. Her trembling hands placed the bowl before the exhausted owl, and he hooted in appreciation. She anxiously peered at the package and bit her bottom lip. _If he easily recognized my handwriting, he'll recognize the similarity of Prudence's handwriting_, she thought as Sirius smiled back—his one hand grasped the package, and the other hand, scratched the owl.

"Parker…Parker," he murmured, narrowing his eyes in thought. "I don't recognize the name. A student, right?"

Althea nodded tensely as the feeling of ice water pouring over her chest and abdomen returned. "May I?" she asked, holding out her hand for the package.

Sirius shook his head abruptly as she caught him in thought. "Oh, right," he replied with a small laugh and handed her the package.

Althea quickly grabbed the package and held it close to her abdomen. "Thank you."

_What would you have said if he wanted to know who she was_, she thought and her grip tightened upon the package. _'Oh, Sirius, this is from your daughter. Yes, Prudence never died…surprise!' Yeah, and then you'd be hexed across this bloody kitchen_.

Sirius smiled as she scratched the top of the owl's head. "You could open it here, if you like," he offered. "We won't bother you."

Althea looked from Sirius to Remus, who was very pale—his hands behind him, tightly grasping the kitchen worktop edge. He faintly shook his head. Althea's tongue moistened her bottom lip. She would oblige Remus.

"I'd rather open this upstairs," she replied and smiled weakly at Sirius—her stomach sick. "Sort of," she began and swallowed her throat dry, "private, you know."

"I see," he replied and winked. "Important."

"Right," she breathed and swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat.

The caustic liquid burned the back of her throat and she fought not to make a face as she slowly backed out of her kitchen. Quickly turning on her heel, she entered the entrance hall, ran up the stairs, and rushed into her bedroom. _You're going to hell_, she thought as she locked her door with multiple locking charms. _How could you keep this from him? How long_? She thought of Sirius uncovering the truth of Prudence's survival, and the reckless lengths he went through in attempt to catch Peter Pettigrew. Would he be just as reckless? As violent? _He would let a dementor suck out a man's soul for you…for your daughter_. She looked at the package and caressed the charmed picture of the butterflies fluttering though a small field of flowers. _She touched this and he touched this…you aren't worthy to touch this_, she thought, painfully suppressing tears. Althea sat on her bed with the package in her lap. _He didn't know. He was so close to his daughter and he didn't know_.

"If he knew, he'd kill me," she said, her fingers sliding underneath the tape on the sides of the package.

_I didn't think she would've finished my father's book so quickly_, she thought, carefully unwrapping the purple paper. On the afternoon of Remus's resignation from Hogwarts, Prudence entered Althea's office with a gift for the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that she and her friends had made. So eager to make a connection with her daughter, she lent Prudence one of her father's books—a book on how Muggles perceived magic around the world. To her surprise, Prudence finished the book quickly, and the mother and daughter spent an afternoon in lively discussion over the various topics proposed in the book. Althea was very excited at Prudence's enthusiasm over her grandfather's work, and she allowed Prudence to borrow another book for some holiday reading. It was assumed, however, that Prudence would return the book at the start of school. _I never thought she would write me_, she thought, carefully removing the paper. _She'll never know how much this means to me_. Althea suppressed the growing lump in her throat. Would it have been better to ignore her daughter? To stay away? Each interaction held so much meaning for Althea and so very little for Prudence. It would always be that way.

Althea placed the paper next to her, opened the box, and removed two pink envelopes and her father's book. Prudence was the last to touch the book. Her skin tingled at the thought of Prudence's fingers upon the book and she holding it close to her, intently reading every word of her grandfather. She placed the book at her side, and she opened the letter addressed to her: _Professor Morrigan_.

"As it will always be," she sighed and held the opened letter before her.

_…Thank you very much for delivering our gift to Professor Lupin. The girls and I were very pleased with our letters from him. Genevieve actually blushed! We had a great laugh until her parents discovered her letter and incinerated it before all of us. My parents weren't concerned at all! Of course, they're Muggles and thought werewolves only existed in films and books. Is it all right that I let them read your book_?

"Now they won't let you return to Hogwarts," she murmured, her stomach in a great knot. "There's no way they would want you around me."

_My dad and mum enjoyed the book and thought I should write to thank you. I didn't know your address, but I hope this reached you…._

Althea laughed from surprise and raised the palm of her hand to her cheek. "They _wanted_ you to write me?" she asked in disbelief. "Who are these people?"

_People who are better apt to raise a child_, she thought, her eyes returning to the letter. _People who wouldn't abandon her_.

_…Mum thought you would enjoy the photograph in the other envelope. Do you remember? I believe I look awful in it, but you look lovely…._

Althea opened the envelope and smiled as she held the photograph in her hand. _You're wrong_, she thought as Prudence winked. _You're absolutely beautiful_. She examined the photograph taken in her office on a sunny late afternoon. As Althea sat marking exams, a job she despised, she wished for something that would take her away from her boredom. Soon, she heard the sound of a camera, girls giggling, and Prudence's distinct laughter from the corridor. One of the girls noticed that Althea's door was open and the girls quieted, obviously nervous that Althea would scold them, or worse, give them detentions. Instead, Althea invited the girls into her office, fed them chocolates, and offered to take photographs of the four. Prudence insisted that she have her picture taken with Althea, and Althea—not wanting to disappoint her daughter—reluctantly agreed.

"Mrs. Parker wanted me to have this…unbelievable," she murmured as she looked at herself in the photograph. She had not smiled that genuine of a smile in years. "I could never…."

Althea frowned as her fingertips stroked the side of Prudence's face. _I'd be afraid that I'd want you back_, she thought as Prudence winked again. Looking to her nightstand, she thought the silver picture frame would be suitable to house their photograph until she could buy the perfect frame. She slipped the photograph of Afina and Gran out of the picture frame, and tenderly placed the photograph of Althea and Prudence inside.

"There," she whispered approvingly and looked to the rest of the unread letter, "perfect."

_…Genevieve's brother taught us how to develop photographs. I developed our photograph myself! I thank you again for not scolding us that afternoon. Genevieve would have died if she received a detention. She has never received one, but I told her detentions weren't that terrible. _

_I enjoyed this book on werewolves very much. I remember you said that I could keep the book for the entire holiday, but I was so afraid that I'd lose it, I had to send it back to you. Will we discuss the book again? I hope so, for I have many questions. _

_Sincerely, _

_Prudence Parker_

Althea folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. _Look at us_, she thought as Prudence and Althea looked at one another and grinned. _Would you be as happy if you knew I was your mother_?

"I love you," she whispered, her fingertip touching Prudence's waving hand.

Sirius's loud, bark-like laughter from the hallway startled her, and she juggled the picture frame in her hands. His deliberate footsteps grew closer. She hastily collected the envelope, the wrapping paper, and the picture frame and rushed toward her bath. She crouched before the sink and flung open the cupboard door. _There_, she thought as she placed them behind bottles and jars of hair and bath goods.

"Althea!" Sirius laughed from outside her door.

Althea slammed the cupboard door shut and quickly walked to her bedroom door. She ran her wand along the door, hearing the quiet _click_ of multiple charms unlocking. She hastily stuffed her wand into her pocket, smoothed her skirt, and opened the door to a smiling Sirius.

"Yes?"

Sirius, his expression thoughtful, rested his hands on her bare shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Althea's eyes widened slightly. "Tell you what?" she asked, breathless, feeling the color drain from her cheeks.

_Oh, God, Prudence_, she thought, growing dizzy.

"About her," he replied, his lips curving into a small smile, "your niece."

"Oh," she breathed, her body relaxing, "Afina."

"Yeah," he laughed, shaking her slightly, teasingly, "what d'you think I meant?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said dismissively, rubbing her temple soothingly. "I was thinking about something else…the letter I just read."

"Ah, I see," he said, and Althea slipped herself from his grip. He frowned. "Good news in the letter, though?"

"Very good," she murmured, avoiding his gaze. "Very good, indeed."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter 8**

"You can do better than that!" Sirius laughed, pointing his wand at Remus.

Remus sent a jet of yellow light toward Sirius, and Sirius, with a simple movement of his wrist, deftly blocked the curse. He looked at Remus with mild amusement as he twirled his wand between his fingers. _Some things will never change_, she thought, smirking as she shaded Sirius's hair. Althea sat in her solarium, and ever so often, she would lift her eyes to look out the large, opened windows at Sirius and Remus practicing the latest defensive moves. She had to admit, although it was not her best, it was one of her most interesting sketches. She felt, in this sketch, that she captured Sirius's arrogance and Remus's mild frustration, bordering on annoyance. She stretched out her legs before her on one of the pale yellow sofas in a very yellow room. _None of the Morrigans have ever owned up to painting this room yellow—two yellow rooms in one house_, she thought, admitting that the yellow paint on the few walls in the solarium contrasted nicely with the abundance of dark green, leafy plants. _I believe it was Great Aunt Lyda though—her room was the Yellow Room. I heard she enjoyed her yellow handbag…. Come to think of it, she's always wearing yellow in photographs and portraits. Amazing, what I realize after all these years_.

"Look at her, Moony," Sirius remarked, folding his arms, "she looks completely bored by us."

"I'm not completely bored," she replied, resting her pencil atop her sketchbook. "I find you both very amusing…. Anyway," she continued, taking the pencil in her hand, "you're the one that wanted Remus to demonstrate to you the new curses and counter-curses."

"Right," Remus agreed, stretching his shoulders back. "I'll say, '_Percutio_,' and you immediately say—you immediately say—Sirius—"

Althea giggled as Sirius winked and posed for her.

"_Sirius_—"

"Yes?" Sirius replied with feigned innocence as he spun to look at Remus.

Remus rolled his eyes. "_Pay attention_."

"Oh, come on," he pleaded, throwing his head up in exhaustion. "I know this already. Let's do something else."

Remus laughed. "We haven't tried it yet—"

"I know it," Sirius snorted and turned to wink at Althea.

Althea winked back. Sirius kissed the air and she shook her head, feeling her cheeks flush. Sirius grinned at her response.

"What's the counter-curse, then?" Remus asked, incredulous, a smirk on his lips. "See, you don't—"

"'_Integere_,'" he replied smugly, accentuating every syllable.

Sirius turned to Althea and winked—Althea bit the end of her pencil to stifle her laughter. She knew what would come next. Suddenly, a jet of purple light streaked by Sirius within inches of his face, causing him to jump back.

Sirius immediately rounded on Remus. "Oi! What the bloody hell was that for?" he asked, his pride bruised.

"Do you think the Ministry would wait until you're ready?" Remus laughed; his wand at the ready. "The majority of the Aurors now were trained by Moody if that's any indication."

Sirius shrugged. "I'm bored with this," he replied, slipping his wand into his side pocket. "I reckon I'll write Harry."

"Right," Remus sighed and rolled his eyes at Althea.

Althea giggled deeply in response. _They'll be in here shortly_, she thought, watching the two men walk toward the veranda. Sirius clapped Remus on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Remus shook his head.

Althea held out her sketchbook before her and inspected her sketch. She had taken great liberty with Sirius's appearance. His face was fuller, more handsome, and his clothes fit—his shirt did not hang off his thin shoulders. Althea decided she would write to Afina, sending her Sirius's measurements, so she could design a few pieces for him. Of course, she would say the clothes were for Remus—she cringed at Afina discovering that the clothes were actually for Sirius. _She'd never understand_, she thought, hearing Sirius's deliberate footsteps enter the solarium. _He was the man that ruined my life, but I ruined my life—not him_.

Sirius sighed loudly as he threw himself on the small sofa underneath the window and perpendicular to where she sat. He was very tall, his legs—outstretched—hung over the edge of the sofa, and his hands touched the floor. He sat up, placed the inkbottle on the floor, and unrolled a piece of parchment as he brought his knees to his chest.

"What a tiring day," he remarked, dipping his quill in the black ink.

Althea laughed quietly. "Tiring? You've only practiced for one hour," she replied, turning her sketchbook to a new page, "if that." Althea started to sketch the outline of the sofa. "Where's Remus?" she asked as she sketched one of the sofa legs.

"He wanted to wash up," he replied and smirked. "He's all sweaty."

"It's a myth, you know," she sighed, sketching the last sofa leg.

"You're proof of that," he remarked, scratching his chin with the quill. He seemed to mutter something Althea could not hear. "Isn't Remus good, though?"

Althea—her body tensing somewhat—remained silent and gently bit her bottom lip.

He tilted his head as he looked at her. "Good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I mean."

"Oh, right," she breathed, feeling her face flush faintly. "It's why Dumbledore hired him. He's a brilliant teacher—great with the children."

"Unfortunately, that's all changed now," he remarked as he continued to write. "What does that woman have against werewolves?" he asked aloud, frowning as he paused from writing. "Fear, maybe."

Althea rested her pencil on her sketchbook. "Or the common prejudices most hold—"

Sirius shook his head. "She really hates them…like she knew one personally."

"She could've been jilted by a werewolf a long time ago," she suggested and Sirius laughed loudly.

"She's never had the opportunity to be jilted, love," he replied patronizingly and smiled wickedly. "Not even I," he continued, placing his hand against his thin chest, "who spent twelve years in Azkaban, even in my most desperate, lonely hour, would—ugh, I can't even say it!" Sirius shuddered and pulled a face, which caused Althea to giggle. "Horrible, indeed."

Althea tapped her pencil against her sketchbook. "She might have been very lovely at one time," she explained with mock thoughtfulness. "She might have had many gentleman suitors in her youth—"

"That she kept magically bound in her sitting room," he finished derisively as he stopped writing.

Sirius took his wand from his pocket and pointed it over Althea's shoulder. Althea heard the distinct click of the Wizard Wireless and the sound of droning bagpipes filled her solarium.

"What is _that_?" he asked, making a face.

"Weird Sisters," she answered as she started to sketch Sirius. "Very popular."

"I'd rather listen to Orpheus," he sneered, pointing his wand at the Wizard Wireless.

"You can," she replied with a small smile, "I have their latest album over there." Althea used her thumb to point over her shoulder at the phonograph next to the Wizard Wireless.

Sirius frowned with disgust. "How _old_ are they?" he asked, directing his wand at the phonograph.

"Alexander's thirty-seven, three years older than _you_. Stop it—their latest album received critical acclaim," she explained, somewhat defensively, and fought a smile as she heard the phonograph start to play. "Very clever," she remarked as Sirius grinned, "or very lazy."

"Oh, memories," he sighed happily, resting the back of his head on the arm of the sofa. Althea giggled and then outright laughed as Sirius sang along to the record. "What?" he asked with feigned innocence, turning his head toward her.

"Some boys would play romantic music when they wanted a shag," she replied with a wry smile, "not Led Zeppelin."

Sirius sat up. "Led Zeppelin's not romantic?" he asked with mock concern. "Anyway, I had to…Robert Plant is the only one that could mask your screaming."

Althea took a piece of paper from her sketchbook, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it at him. Sirius held up his hands to block it as he laughed.

"Berk!" she laughed. "Everyone knew—"

"Not everyone," he corrected, "just the important ones."

"Your mates."

Sirius nodded. "The important ones," he repeated and his lips quivered into a smile. "Admit it, seventh year Hogsmeade visits were brilliant."

"We never went to Hogsmeade our seventh year—school-sanctioned anyway."

"I meant," he began, sitting forward, "we had the seventh year dormitory to ourselves then…. Well, except for the one time James—" Sirius laughed to himself as he ran his slender fingers through his hair. "D'you remember him at the door? 'Oh, Padfoot, not Led Zeppelin!'"

Althea smiled—she did remember. It was the Sunday before Valentine's Day. Lily spent the morning in a frantic state—her clothes strewn about the girls' beds and Althea's exhaustion growing with each dress change. James was nervous as well. With Sirius's guidance, James had bought Lily a necklace (Althea would have thought a box of chocolates or flowers would have sufficed), and decided to give it to her during the Hogsmeade visit. However, in his anxiousness, James had left the gift upon his nightstand and sought to retrieve it.

"And what did you say?" she asked teasingly, stretching her legs out before her. "'Come in, mate, all done,'" she continued, impersonating Sirius.

Sirius laughed, massaging the back of his head—his look, sheepish.

"Of course, you forgot you locked the door, and you—in all your naked glory—had to open the door for him as I hid underneath the blankets. I uncovered my eye—oh, was he pink!"

"Always sought to remind me," he replied and screwed up his eyes in thought. He laughed quietly. "Do you remember the time we snuck the Invisibility Cloak?"

Althea nodded, shifting upon the sofa.

He sighed happily as he looked her over. "God, you were fun."

Althea drew her knees to her chest and resumed sketching Sirius. Her lips trembled into a smile. "As were you," she replied quietly.

Sirius didn't seem to have heard her. "The memories are slowly returning," he replied, tapping the quill against his temple. "The piece of chocolate cake a day is an excellent idea. Who thought of it?"

Althea's smile faltered. "A convent in Alexandria," she answered, her eyes traveling to the parchment in his lap. She smiled mischievously—eager to change the subject. "You never wrote that much to me."

"Yes, I did!" he replied laughingly. "I wrote pages and pages to you."

"I know," she blurted out and felt her cheeks warm.

She growled quietly. _I'm not a sentimental fool_, she thought as her words registered with Sirius.

"You still have them, don't you?" he asked with a very amused, touched smile.

"I don't have them _with_ me," she answered, her cheeks burning as she diverted her eyes to her sketch. "They're in England…I think"

_In a large chest_, she thought, smoothing a curl behind her ear as she looked up from her sketch. _I almost incinerated them last Christmas_.

"Well, I have all of yours here," he said, gesturing with the quill at the ceiling. "Pages and pages of them. Do you remember what you wrote in them?"

Althea smiled bashfully. "No, not really."

"I do—well, I didn't until recently," he explained and smiled sweetly as he remembered. "You'd write about how much you loved me and that you couldn't bear another day without me."

"Did I?" she mused, fighting an awkward smile. "I was obviously very silly."

"No," he murmured, and sighed, pensively looking ahead of him. "I wish I could remember what I wrote."

"You'd write how you wanted me to run away with you," she replied, not looking up from her sketch as she struggled sketching Sirius's fingers, "and how you wanted to rescue me from my horrible life with Gran."

"You do remember."

She looked up from her sketch to see Sirius smiling with surprise, touched that she would remember. _Of course, I remember_, she thought, smiling as well. _It was us against the Wizarding world_.

"Well, the idea that Gran didn't want me to date you was very appealing," she explained and sighed, "very appealing, indeed."

"Is it still appealing?" he asked with eyebrow raised.

Althea laughed off his question. "You're writing Harry, then?"

Sirius nodded and smiled at his parchment. "Brilliant lad, isn't he?" he beamed and dipped his quill in the inkbottle. "Flies like James."

"Harry's more cautious on his broom—"

"I think _I'm_ more of an expert on James' flying," he interrupted, giving her a look of mild condescension.

"Right, of course," she replied hollowly.

_Remember what Remus said last night after Sirius went to sleep: 'Don't contradict anything Sirius says about Harry_,' she thought as Sirius gave a self-satisfied smile. The two had a long discussion after Sirius retired—in a happy, celebratory, drunken stupor—to her childhood bedroom. Remus reminded her of Sirius's fragility and that the most innocuous phrase or innuendo could provoke him into a rage or depression. It was best for Althea to keep the conversations light and jovial.

Althea sat forward, placing her sketchbook at her side. "You saw Harry fly? When?"

"The beginning of November, I think," he replied and smiled with great fondness. "Still managed to win the Quidditch Cup—Remus told me."

"Finally," she remarked, "I relished every moment—especially when Snape had to hand over the fifty Galleons to me. I believe the image of his sour face will stay with me forever."

Sirius laughed. "Betting on Quidditch matches…nothing has changed," he remarked. "Was he good for it?"

"The fifty Galleons?" she asked and quietly snorted with laughter. "Oh, yeah. I made sure he knew I spent it too—sweets from Honeydukes for the entire staff," she continued and pointed over her shoulder, "and Orpheus' new album, actually. I played it during our End of Term staff party."

Sirius stopped writing. "How could anyone think Gryffindor could not win?"

"They hadn't won since Charlie Weasley and that was ages ago."

Sirius shook his head with part disappointment and part disbelief. "What happened to the team?"

"James left Hogwarts," she answered and winked. "He was the best Captain—"

"And player," Sirius added with a nod.

"He was the only person you'd listen to—"

"That's not true," he interrupted, looking dismissively at her.

"Yes, it is!" she laughed as Sirius fought a frown. "Oh, _come on_! How many times did I tell you that you were in the wrong formation?"

"You were Morrigan," he snorted, his lips upturning into a smile, "I wasn't about to listen to _you_."

"Even when I was Althea, you didn't listen to me," she muttered, picking up her sketchbook.

"I listened when it mattered, love," he teased and winked.

Althea rolled her eyes as she started to shade Sirius' shirtsleeve. _When it mattered_, she thought, smudging shaded area of Sirius' shirtsleeve with her index finger. _The more I speak with him, the more I realize he hasn't changed_. He was a thirty-something with a mind of a twenty-something—and Althea knew—at twenty-something, Sirius had the mind of a teenager. _It will come—the frustration_, she thought, shading the creases of his shirt. _When he realizes things have changed and he has remained the same_.

"Have you taught Harry?"

Althea looked up from her shading. "Oh, no, no. He doesn't take Muggle Studies."

"I mean," he said, pausing from writing, "have you shown Harry any of the Seeker maneuvers James invented?"

"You mean the one where if the male Seeker and I are after the Snitch, I charm my shirt to lift and expose my breasts?" she asked with mock seriousness. "James said, 'Althea, if it comes down to it, I'll distract Sirius and you do what you need to do to get the Snitch…. Sirius will understand. It's Quidditch,'" she continued and smiled impishly. "Would you've understood?"

"Of course, not…. So, have you?"

"Exposed my breasts to a male Seeker? Never," she replied and giggled as Sirius frowned. "I haven't shown him any of the maneuvers."

"Really?"

Althea furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced at her sketch. "I haven't spoken with him, Sirius."

"About Quidditch?"

Althea looked into his eyes and braced for his reaction. "No, at all."

Sirius's eyes immediately widened and his nostrils flared. Althea cringed.

"_What_? He's Lily's son!" he said—the quill and parchment dropping to the floor as he leaned forward.

"I know, I know," she murmured and winced at what was to come. "I was afraid of the questions he would ask…. You're his _godfather_," she explained, her eyes pleading with him to understand, "and at the time, I couldn't tell him what happened."

Sirius remained quiet.

"I'm so sorry."

Sirius grunted as he shrugged his shoulders.

_You've just reminded him that you thought him guilty_, she thought and anxiously bit her bottom lip. _Good one, Althea_.

"You haven't written about me, have you?" she asked as Sirius retrieved the fallen quill and parchment.

"Why not?" he remarked, smoothing out the parchment. "It's all changed now."

"I've never talked with him, that's why."

"You should start," he said, dipping the quill in ink.

"I can't," she replied, her thumb quickly flipping through the edge of her sketchbook papers.

"He's Lily's son!" Sirius laughed with disbelief. "Were you are were not there when he was born?"

"I know, but—"

"Then speak with him," Sirius said, holding up his arms. "Invite him to your office for Chocolate Frogs. I'll pop my head in the fireplace—"

"Snape would suspect."

"Let him."

Althea's thumb stopped flipping. "Look," she began, her voice defensive, "I haven't talked with Harry for the three years he's been at Hogwarts. If I start, Snape will notice. He'll trace it back to you—"

"Likely."

"He still believes I had something to do with you escaping Hogwarts that night!" she said, sitting forward. "I wanted to kill you, not help you escape!" Althea rubbed her forehead as Sirius gulped. "I'm sorry—I've upset you."

"No, you haven't," he muttered—somewhat stunned—as he sat back. "I'd rather die than have my soul sucked from me. I reckon I should thank you."

_He is upset_, she thought as Sirius went quiet. _Mind yourself, Althea. Keep the conversation light_.

"Right, what are you drawing?" he asked and sniffed loudly. Sirius had the same idea.

"You," she answered with a slight smile as her index finger traced Sirius's drawn arm.

"I'm not very handsome," he replied with a small sneer. "The first time I looked at myself in the mirror, I shuddered and screamed." He wrinkled his nose. "Staring at death."

"You don't look like that prison photograph," she reassured, looking to her sketch—to Sirius's fuller face and happy eyes. "Nothing like it at all."

"May I look at it?"

Althea blushed as she pulled the sketchbook to her chest. "Oh, no, no," she said, vigorously shaking her head. "It isn't finished."

"I'd love to look at it when you are finished," he said, and something registered with him, causing him to smile. "I remember," he murmured with surprise and laughed, "I remember you sketching me naked."

"Of course," she laughed, loosening her grip on the sketchbook, "I sketched you naked many times."

"Do you still have them?" he asked, his eyebrows lifted in eagerness.

Althea felt the apples of her cheeks warm. "Yes, I believe I do."

"Here?"

The warmth radiated from the apples of her cheeks to her collarbone as she nodded. "Would you like to see them?"

Sirius grinned as she felt her blush encompass her chest. "After lunch," he replied and folded his letter to Harry, not removing his gaze from her. "What time is it?"

Althea quickly diverted her eyes to her watch. "Twelve-thirty," she answered, pointing to the mother of pearl dial. "I'll make some sandwiches, then?"

Sirius shook his head as his feet touched the floor. "No, I'll make them," he offered as he picked up the inkbottle. "I'll wash up first, though."

He hesitated at Althea's side. She forced herself to smile up at him. He sighed as his eyes widened in an attempt to peer at her sketchbook. She held it closer to her chest.

"Right," he breathed and backed away from her.

Her gaze followed Sirius out of the solarium, and once gone, she eased her grip upon her sketchbook. _Oh, God, he must think that I frequently look at those sketches_, she thought, covering her face with her hands. She laughed from embarrassment as her skin began to cool. _He's probably laughing right now and waiting to tell Remus_.

"If it makes him happy," she said, lowering her hands. "That's all that matters."

_Even if it's at my expense_, she thought, her fingers caressing her unfinished sketch of Sirius. _He was very beautiful though…and always willing_. Althea could not remember why she started to sketch Sirius nude—the thought of who proposed it did not matter much—but she did remember when it occurred. Their Lost Weekend, as Althea fondly referred to it—at seventeen, the week she spent with Sirius after running away from Gran's home. _I didn't run away, really_, she thought, resting the side of her face against the sofa. _I flew away, on the back of Sirius's motorbike with nothing but my nightgown. Gran still won't let me forget, but I don't care—I love that memory…. We were together, we were happy, and nothing else mattered…. God, I wish I could go back to that—to be that free_.

The memory of her favorite sketch flickered before her eyes. Her lips upturned into a secretive smile, as she had not thought of that sketch in many years. Sirius was seventeen—just three days before his eighteenth birthday—and she asked him that morning, if she could sketch him. He agreed—he enjoyed the attention and relished that the only person that mattered during the session was Sirius as she sketched him. However, she wanted to sketch _him_; not attention-seeking, not posing for her, but as he truly was in their most intimate of moments. She told him to act as if she was not there, and soon, Sirius took his wand from the nightstand, turned on the television, and started to watch. The layers Sirius hid behind slowly dissolved, leaving her with what she wanted. As he reclined on the bed, his hand resting behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, he seemed bored by the television program, but Althea knew he was not watching the program. He used the program as a vehicle to hide his actual activity—thinking. On rare moments, Althea caught a glimpse as he did this—usually reading a textbook, his eyes seeming to stare through the page. She was never able to capture that look again.

Althea sighed deeply as she lifted her head from the sofa. Her favorite drawing was also her last before their breakup. She did not draw Sirius again until after the birth of Harry. His body had changed then—his smooth skin was now flecked with small, slowly fading scars obtained from duels and battles with Death Eaters. Again, she attempted to remove the layers he hid behind, but the layers were thicker and numerous, and once somewhat easy to accomplish through distraction, now was impossible.

She would not dare to ask him now to allow her to draw him nude, although, she did wonder what it would reveal. What new scars, what new layers would she have to pull back?

"Where are those drawings though?" she asked, frowning slightly as she thought of where she kept them.

She first thought of the obvious place, the attic, but she never kept any writing or drawings there. Next, she thought of her father's study. No, she had discovered the sketchbooks two summers ago in the bottom drawer of his writing desk and had moved them…to her bedroom. Althea smiled triumphantly—she knew exactly where she placed them. She had placed the sketchbooks underneath old photographs in the middle drawer in the large chest of drawers between the two large windows.

Althea left the solarium and ascended the stairs, expecting to hear Sirius whistling from her childhood bedroom as she reached the landing. _Washing up_, she thought and giggled deeply as she glanced in the direction of his closed bedroom door, _I never knew one needed a Silencing Charm to wash up_. She smiled knowingly as she opened her bedroom door, but her smile quickly faded as she entered—her eyes drawn to her bed.

"Sirius, what are you doing in here?" she asked lightly as she closed the door.

Sirius remained silent, his back turned to her as he sat on the far edge of her bed. She walked forward; the midday sun illuminated her path and where Sirius sat, holding in his hands something gleaming, silver. Althea closed her eyes and quickly grabbed the bedpost as not to fall for she felt her body collapsing upon herself.

_He knows_, she thought as she slowly opened her eyes, awaiting his rage. _He knows what I've done_.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter 9**

_He knows_, Althea thought as she slowly opened her eyes, awaiting his rage. _He knows what I've done_.

An overwhelming feeling of nausea enveloped her and she slapped a shaky hand over her mouth as she fought to keep from vomiting, painfully suppressing the caustic bile rising in her throat. Her nails digging into the wood of the bedpost, she inched forward to look over his shoulder. The sunlight caught the glass of the silver frame—the bright beam of light temporarily blinding her—and she hastily blinked the purple, red, and blue spots away.

She could not speak—she did not want to speak. The Althea in the photograph, smiling and laughing with Prudence, spoke for her. They taunted her—celebrating in all of Althea's fears coming to fulfillment.

_He isn't speaking_, she thought, listening to Sirius' slow, deliberate, and loud breaths as he stared at the photograph. Overcome by his silence, Althea tightly shut her eyes as she felt herself slipping—her legs buckling underneath her. Her arms attempted to slow the fall by frantically clinging to the bedpost, but to no use. She collapsed to the floor with her hands and forearms slamming into the wooden floor. Her head resting atop her forearms, she began to cry—all the guilt, the fear, the loneliness she felt inside her from her secret burst forth with every sob. She knew he thought her pathetic and horrible as she sobbed at his feet, but that did not matter now. She no longer had to hide. It was over.

"Remus borrowed my shampoo," he said hoarsely. "I had forgotten…and I went to borrow yours."

Althea—blurry eyed—lifted herself off her arms and slowly tilted her head upward to look at Sirius. Large tears captured the sunlight as they trickled and fell from his cheeks—his eyes still transfixed on the photograph.

"She's alive," he whispered excitedly, his face softening as new tears fell from his eyes.

Althea opened her mouth—her muscles and lips contorting to form syllables—but she could only hiccough. What would she try to say? She was sorry and to forgive her? No, she would never ask for his forgiveness now. Althea shamefully lowered her head as she knelt at his feet, her hands clasped in her lap. Suddenly, to her surprise, she heard a soft chuckle. She furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered who would be laughing at this revelation, but soon realized, it was Sirius. He was…_laughing_? Who could laugh at betrayal? _He laughed when he thought he lost everything in the duel with Peter_, she thought, closing her eyes as she realized her fate. _Just make it quick, Sirius, please_.

Sirius's fingertips tenderly touched her left cheek and she cowered slightly. She waited for his other fingertips to touch her right cheek, to move slowly down her neck and strangle her, but they never came.

"Stop being dramatic, my love," he laughed and sniffed loudly. "You know how much I hate to see you cry."

He rested his fingertips under her chin, gently lifting her face to look into his. He was smiling. Althea caught her breath—not knowing if she should continue to cry, or to laugh herself.

"Please, come up here," he said quietly, holding out his arms for her.

Althea refused them. "You should be angry with me," she croaked, turning her face from him. "I've betrayed you. I've lied to you."

Sirius knelt next to her and turned her face toward his. "You did what you needed to do," he replied, looking into her eyes. "To protect her, I know."

Althea felt a sob caught in her throat.

"Now, come on," he said, offering her his hands.

Althea—very numb—stood and sat next to him on her bed. Sirius held the picture frame in his hands, smiling and laughing when Prudence would wink and smile. She looked from Prudence to Sirius—the shame at her decision transforming to sorrow. Her observations were confirmed—his grey eyes encircled with thick, black lashes, his lips, and his smile—all were contained in Prudence. Althea held her breath as Sirius and Prudence simultaneously threw their heads back in laughter. The eeriness of the moment caused her to shiver.

"God," he breathed appreciatively as he caressed the side of Prudence's face with his index finger, "absolutely beautiful."

Althea blinked. It was not a dream—he truly was happy. In discovering the photograph, he would have found the letter as well and would have known what Althea had done. _I don't understand_, she thought as Sirius laughed as Prudence rolled her eyes and smiled. _If he knows I gave her away, why is he so happy_?

"I don't understand," she murmured, looking at her hands. "If you know—"

"What is there to understand?" he laughed, placing his hand over hers. Althea whimpered as he gently squeezed her hand. "She's alive, our daughter," he began and laughed, "_our daughter_."

Althea eyes reluctantly looked up to Sirius's face, and the sick feeling returned to her stomach. His face had softened—he was youthful, happy, and Althea was afraid to admit, hopeful. He was the Sirius, sitting on the couch that early afternoon, she had sketched with great liberty in her sketchbook.

Sirius placed the picture frame next to him, and held her hands to his chest. Althea felt his heart beat excitedly and strongly against her hands. "I know haven't been the best father," he said, solemnly looking into her eyes, "but I'll try…I promise. I'll make it up to you and to our daughter…for all the twelve birthdays I've missed."

Father. _Oh, no_, Althea thought as Sirius rested his forehead against hers—the panic, the feeling of wanting to run away, overwhelming. The idea that Althea would ever give his daughter away had never entered his mind. Why would it? It was his child and she had loved him; she wanted her and went to great lengths—giving up her career, her freedom—to protect her. _How could I ever explain to him? How will I tell him he could never hold his daughter_?

"No," she murmured, "you need to know—"

"Please," he whispered, placing his fingers to her lips, "it all makes sense now. You would do anything to protect her—"

"I would," she interrupted, tightly shutting her eyes. "That's why—"

"You made the grave for protection, I know," he murmured and soothingly stroked her cheek. "I should've known immediately that she wasn't dead. You would've taken care of her grave."

Althea removed his hand from her cheek. "Sirius," she began, opening her eyes. Sirius looked to the photograph and smiled. "Sirius, you need to know the truth."

"You don't need to tell me—I saw the photograph, and I knew," he replied, taking the picture frame into his hands. "Disguising packages and letters as well, very clever," he remarked, and grinned as Althea and Prudence looked at each other and smiled. "You did what needed to be done. I'm not a free man."

Althea licked her dry lips. "Sirius—"

"I should've known yesterday when that package came with the charmed scenes on it. Did you teach her?"

"No," she replied quietly, massaging her upper arms. "She taught herself."

"Clever girl," he murmured, his index finger stroking Prudence's cheek. "Her name is Prudence, right?"

"Yes, of course," she replied and wanted to scream at herself for stalling. "It's the name you chose."

Sirius smiled to himself. "Yeah, I remember," he replied and looked up from the photograph. "Prudence what, then?"

"Rosemary—"

"_Rosemary_?" he sneered and pulled a face. "The poor girl. You hate Rosemary."

"It's tradition," she said, twisting her hands her lap.

"Gran forced you, right?" he remarked, smirking. "You know, you really need to stop letting Gran run your life," he teased, pointing his thin finger at her.

He pinched her nose and Althea's stomach somersaulted.

Sirius developed a look of mock horror. "You didn't leave her with Gran, did you?"

"No, no," she replied, emphatically shaking her head, "I would _never_ leave her with Gran." Althea inhaled a deep breath and made a face as she exhaled. "She's with Muggles."

"Is she? With friends, of course?" he asked and kissed her forehead. "And Gran approves?"

"Gran has been very good to me," she replied as he frowned. "If it wasn't for her, I don't know where I'd be."

_Buried at Azkaban_, she thought as Sirius returned to looking at the photograph.

"I need to meet her," he lamented, firmly holding the picture frame. "Owl her, please—or, I'll owl her—"

"No!" she said abruptly, placing her hand atop his. Realizing her outward panic, she gently patted his hand before releasing it. "She doesn't know everything. She doesn't know—"

"Right," he muttered and sighed, "don't want to upset her. You'll tell her slowly, then?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "It's July now…August she'll be ready, right? Middle of August—near your birthday? End of August, then?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sirius," she replied quietly, slowly sliding away from him. She pressed her back against the bedpost. "I'm not sure when she'll be ready."

_Because she doesn't know we're her parents_, her mind screamed, her fingers digging into the duvet. However, small part of her rejoiced in this scene—in Sirius's interest in Prudence. His smile, the softness of his countenance was genuine. It reminded her of that Halloween morning when he sang softly to her—their last together. It answered, _shut up! Shut up, you stupid girl! Isn't this what you'd wanted? Sirius showing a bloody interest in her_? All that mattered now were Althea and Prudence.

"Christmas, then," he decided and winked. "Tell her I'll buy her anything she wants…. What does she like?"

"I don't know, really," she replied, her fingers tightening upon the duvet—her sweat moistening the soft, delicate cotton fabric. "Girls can be so difficult to shop for—especially at her age."

"A doll, then?"

Althea snorted with laughter. "She'll be _thirteen_," she laughed, and stopped laughing as she saw Sirius frown. "It's all right, really," she said and patted is hand. "A lot has happened."

_As in giving away your daughter to the Parkers_, she thought, quickly retracting her hand. The guilt she felt at her brief charade overpowered her pleasure in her sick fantasy. _Althea, tell him now—before anything else happens—before he goes looking for or owling Prudence. She doesn't know and he'll scare her, do you want that? He is her boggart! Be strong and tell him_!

"Sirius, I need to tell you something very important," she said, looking to her hands. "Please, understand that I've wanted to tell you, but I was frightened—"

"She's in Slytherin," he interrupted and she heard him gulp.

"Look in her hair," she replied, pointing to the school tie Prudence wore to keep the hair from her face. "She's in Gryffindor, but—"

"Right," he laughed, "how could I ever think she was in Slytherin! Wearing her Gryffindor tie—she thought it looked better in her hair, right? I remember you did that at thirteen…. Did she choose that owl as well? It's a pathetic owl. I'll buy her a proper one."

"No," she replied, her voice slightly higher.

Sirius's head jerked back at her response.

"She has a cat—a black one…. Violet—that's her name," she continued fretfully. "She can't have more than one animal. It's against school rules if she has an owl _and_ a cat. She loves that cat…it wears a pink bow."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively as he smiled. "I'll owl Dumbledore and make arrangements," he replied and stared at the photograph.

"You can't. It wouldn't be fair—"

"I'm her father and I can," he replied resolutely, but soon frowned as his eyes intently stared at the photograph. "Breasts," he murmured, his frown deepening, "no."

"My bodice isn't that tight in the photograph, is it?" she asked, turning her head so she could look at the photograph.

"No," he whispered and gulped, "_her_."

Sirius pointed a shaky finger at Prudence. Althea leaned closely to the photograph, looking for what Sirius saw. As Prudence turned to her right, Althea saw them—two very small, perky breasts poking underneath her white uniform blouse. _They're hardly noticeable_, she thought, covering her mouth as she giggled.

"I wouldn't laugh, my love," he replied, pulling the picture frame toward him. "She's growing up very quickly…too quickly."

"She's still very much a little girl," she reassured, taking his hand in hers.

"Not for much longer," he said. "It's only a matter of time before she's climbing out her dormitory window on the back of some bloke's racing broom."

Althea tilted her head as she considered her daughter in the photograph. "She's not like us," she began as Prudence seemed to revel in the attention. "She's had a normal, happy, peaceful childhood."

_She's not like us because I didn't raise her_, she thought and anxiously bit her bottom lip. _You need to know, please, let me explain_.

"Sirius, my love," she said, massaging his hand, "please, let me tell you why she isn't like us."

"Because she grew up without Death Eaters and Voldemort," he replied, lifting her fingers to his lips.

Althea closed her eyes and winced as he kissed each finger. She had to tell him. _Courage, Althea_.

"Because she didn't grow up in the Wizarding world," she corrected as Sirius rested her hand against his cheek.

"Always had to play Muggle," he laughed quietly and kissed the inside of her wrist. She closed her eyes briefly at the feel of his moist lips against her skin. "It must've been very difficult to hide her magic, then?"

"I—I…" she began, but the words refused to leave her throat.

Sirius laughed deeply. "It must've if you're speechless!" he remarked and forcefully kissed the back of her hand.

"Yes," she breathed, it paining her to smile, "when she was about two weeks, she charmed her toy unicorn to her cot. I watched it leave the sitting room, float through the hall, and into her nursery."

Sirius's lips upturned into a smile. "I reckon you couldn't push her in that pram, then," he replied, playfully bending and extending her fingers.

"No, I couldn't," she replied ruefully as she turned her eyes to look out the window. "She levitated that, too."

A small, white butterfly alighted on the windowsill. _Why can't I tell him_, she wondered, watching as the butterfly walked along the windowsill. _Because he's so happy—he believes he'll see his daughter at Christmas. This is what he needs…something to anticipate. How can you ruin this for him…_? She could use a Memory Charm against him, but even now, he was so strong. He could discover Prudence's photographs, and could Althea Obliviate him again? _No_, she thought, as the butterfly flew away, _I have to tell him. I'll make him understand. I wasn't a coward—the risk was very real_.

"Is she a good girl? I mean," he asked and laughed, "not too many detentions?"

Althea turned her attention toward Sirius. "Relatively good," she murmured and opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sirius.

"Good marks in all her classes?"

"Great marks—one of five, first years that received full marks on her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam," she replied quickly and furrowed her eyebrows. "Si—"

"I'd expect no less," he replied, smiling. He leaned closer to her and laughed lowly. "Does she enjoy Quidditch?"

"She's not sporty, really," she answered, smiling uncomfortably. "She enjoys the Quidditch boys though," she muttered and inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils.

Sirius smiled eagerly. "Harry?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in anticipation of her answer.

"No, he's not her type."

Sirius' smile immediately faded. "_Not her type_?" he asked—his voice louder in defense. "What's wrong with him?"

"She's a tall girl," she answered, pointing to the photograph. Prudence straightened herself. "He's a bit short."

"_So_?" he snorted. "He'll grow."

"Yeah, but he hasn't noticed her."

"Hasn't noticed her?" he remarked, thrusting his hand toward the photograph. "She's a beautiful girl!"

"He'll be in his fourth year, and she'll be in her second year," she replied, placing a hand on his forearm. "I doubt he's noticed her."

"I'll change that," he replied and winked.

Althea's eyes widened slightly. "I doubt she's his type," she said, which caused Sirius to frown. Althea retracted her hand and smiled thoughtfully before she continued, "Anyway, he's too busy with Quidditch to notice girls—like James."

"Yeah," he murmured hollowly—his frown softening. "She shouldn't even be thinking about boys."

"She's almost thirteen."

"She's almost grown," he replied, smiling sadly as he placed the picture frame in his lap. He sniffed as he brought his hands to her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Althea, I've missed so much. It hasn't been fair to you, to her. She deserves—I swear to you that I'll be the best father," he promised and blinked rapidly—his eyes bright with tears.

Althea caught her breath. _Oh God_.

"Does she—does she know…who I am?" he asked and sniffed loudly. "Not—not Azkaban, or any of that, but that I'm her father?"

Althea clenched her stomach for she felt a sharp pain surge through it at Sirius's timid words. She furrowed her eyebrows as she slowly shook her head.

Sirius lowered his head and removed his hands from her face, covering his own as he started to shake. She inhaled a deep, ragged breath as she took the picture frame from his lap. _No more_, she thought, looking at the happy Althea and Prudence. _It is time_. She looked up from the photograph to Sirius, who shook as he cried softly into the palms of his hands. The heaviness in her chest was unbearable—she had to release it.

"She doesn't know that I'm her mother."

As she spoke the words, the oppressive heaviness lifted, and Althea placed her hand to her breast—almost giddy at the feeling. She was free.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter 10**

Sirius lowered his hands, revealing a pale, dark expression—his thin face twisted into a grotesque, murderous glare. Althea, very frightened by his expression, caught her breath as she sat back, the back of her head slamming against the bedpost. Dazed, her head sore, she quickly blinked the blue and white stars out of her eyes.

"Althea," he asked, his voice unnaturally calm, "what do you mean she doesn't know that you're her mum?"

Althea anxiously whimpered as the back of her head throbbed, sending shooting pains into her forehead. She massaged her forehead, grimacing, as the pain would not subside.

"What have you done?"

She should have promptly told him the truth about Prudence. She should not have let him continue to believe that he would see his daughter, have a relationship with his daughter, and that his daughter would love and accept him. Although she believed she was Muggle-born, Prudence—like every Wizarding child—was frightened of Sirius Black. In Wizarding families, he was the Wizarding Bogeyman that parents told their children about to ensure good behavior: "Eat your vegetables, finish your revising, go to bed, or Sirius Black will get you." She heard it once, in Honeydukes, as she bought sweets for Afina. A young mother scolded her two very unruly children by threatening to set Sirius Black on them. The children quieted immediately, and Althea, hastily left Honeydukes without sweets for Afina.

Althea continued to stare at Sirius—her eyes becoming blurry with tears. How will she tell him that his daughter will only ever know him as a mass murderer and evil man? That, indeed, one day Prudence might use the name of Sirius Black to keep her children in line?

"I hate lies," he warned, his jaw tightening. "Has everything you've said since I've discovered that photograph been a lie?"

Althea pressed her back against the bedpost. It was a frightening side to Sirius she had never seen, and she knew she had to be careful with her words. He was never that calm when he was upset. She did not doubt he would kill her. She slid her hand to the pocket of her sundress and her fingertips grasped her wand handle.

"No," she answered nervously, "it wasn't a lie."

"How?" he asked, leaning forward—his dead eyes intently staring into hers. "Is Gran raising our daughter?"

"No," she said quietly, slowly extracting her wand, "Muggles."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "'_Muggles_?'" he repeated, his white face within inches of hers.

"Yes," she whispered, pressing the back of her head into the bedpost.

Sirius inhaled a loud, deep breath through his nostrils before he roared, "YOU'RE LETTING MUGGLES RAISE OUR DAUGHTER?"

Sirius's booming voice caused her to jolt upright, and her wand slipped from her fingertips—it sinking back into her pocket. "Yes—please—let me explain," she said and took a deep gulp of air.

"Muggles…_Muggles_!" he muttered and stood from her bed. "There is _nothing_ to explain!"

"Yes, please," she begged, sitting forward. "Please let me explain to you everything," she pleaded, her hand touching his forearm. "You have to know the circumstances."

Sirius shrank his arm away from her.

"Please, I never wanted to give her away, but I had to—you have to understand—"

"Understand?" he remarked bitterly. "You gave our daughter away, what is there to understand?" Sirius shook his head and growled as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I was out there," he said forcefully and thrust his hand toward window, "fighting—almost _dying_—so our daughter could have a better life!"

"You weren't there!" she blurted out and quickly covered her mouth—her body trembling.

Sirius's eyes widened with rage. "I WAS TO KILL THE MAN THAT I THOUGHT KILLED YOU!" he roared—his face a violent shade of purple.

Althea remained silent—her eyes traveling with Sirius as he picked up her alarm clock and retracted his arm. He thought better of it, and unceremoniously tossed alarm clock onto the bed. The alarm clock bounced away from them and bounced again, settling at the edge of the bed.

Sirius slapped his palm to his face, roughly massaging his cheek as he looked upon Althea. "How many more lies?" he said hoarsely, his face bearing an expression of great disillusionment. "How many?"

"Sirius, my love," she said—her voice quaking as she stood.

She soothingly placed her hands on his upper arms to direct him to her bed, but he shrugged her off. Her arms were awkwardly suspended for a moment, but she let them fall to her sides, as Sirius turned partially away from her—only his profile visible.

"More than anything, I wanted your child—you have to remember. Remember the morning we discovered I was pregnant?" she asked, her stare unwavering as she hoped Sirius's expression would soften…it did not. "I was so unbelievably happy."

"You were afraid," he replied—the words seeming to taste awful on his lips. "You questioned if we were doing the right thing."

"Of course," she agreed, raising her hand to touch his arm, but thought better of it, "but I had you and I loved you—"

Sirius quickly spun to face her. "Are you blaming _me_?" he asked, placing a hand to his chest. "You gave our daughter away because I wasn't there?"

"No, she was in danger, Sirius, great danger," she answered, moving closer, but Sirius took a step back. "I would've done anything to protect her. I had to—it wasn't safe for her to live with me."

"I don't believe you," he replied and shook his head. "Blaming me…blaming _me_!"

Althea hiccoughed and started to cry. _He doesn't want to know_, she thought, feeling the hot tears trickle down her palms. _I've betrayed him and that's enough_.

"Go ahead and cry," he sneered, and Althea lowered her hands, "everything's about you, isn't it?" Sirius laughed mirthlessly as he looked upon Althea with the utmost disgust.

Althea wiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands. "Please," she began, her voice strained and overcome with tears, "I love her. I didn't want to give her away—I wanted to run away with her, but I didn't have a choice. Please—"

"I'm done," he muttered, smoothing the hair away from his face as he looked from Althea to the rest of the room. "I'm done with you—with everything."

Althea stepped back and caught herself before she fell onto her bed as Sirius walked past.

"What—where are you going?" she asked, wiping her eyes as she turned to see Sirius at the door.

Sirius sighed heavily as his hand grasped the doorknob. "I'm righting this, Althea," he said, cold and determined, looking at the door, "because you're too cowardly to do so."

"What? No!" she pleaded, rushing forward as Sirius opened the door.

Her fingers clasped Sirius' shirt and she held tightly as he attempted to shake her from him.

"You can't!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" he warned, prying her fingers from his shirt.

Before she could react, he forcefully shut and magically locked the door. _No_, her mind shouted as she slammed her fist against the door. _He can't go after her! She doesn't know—damn it_! Althea attempted to manually open the lock, but it refused to turn. Holding her wand against the lock, she muttered an opening charm, but a bright blue light enveloped her—a force striking her abdomen, causing her to fall backward onto the her floor.

"Son of a bitch!" she screamed, slamming her palms against the floor.

She needed to stop him, but the door was locked, and she did not want to spend the time casting different charms to unlock it. She looked toward her window—she would have to transform. Standing, she raised her wand, and as she did so, the window lifted. Taking a deep breath, she transformed and flew out the window.

She soared higher, above the widow's walk, above her home to see Sirius sprinting toward the carriage house. He would use the hippogriff to fly back to England, to find Prudence, and to kidnap her. However, in her present state, she could swoop down and peck the top of his head at best. Not waiting to land, with at least a foot until the ground, Althea transformed—her right foot contacting with the ground at an odd angle. She stumbled and fell—her ankle twisting underneath her. She yelped at the warmth and sharp shot of pain radiating up her leg. Disregarding the throbbing, the feeling of jelly in her ankle with every step, she hastily limped forward, determined to stop Sirius.

"NO!" she shouted as Sirius was within feet of the door. "YOU'LL HURT HER! SIRIUS, NO!"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" he yelled back—he was almost at the door.

Althea hastily extracted her wand from her sundress pocket. "NO!" she shouted and fiercely thrust the tip of her wand toward his back. "_LOCOMOTOR MORTIS_!"

A jet of light burst from her wand, hitting Sirius in the back. His legs rigid, he attempted to turn as he fell, brandishing his wand.

"_Expelliarmus_!" she yelled and his wand flew into the shrubbery.

For a moment, Sirius remained on his back, allowing Althea to limp toward him. However, with great strength, Sirius rolled over onto his stomach and started to crawl toward his wand.

"NO!" she screamed, throwing herself atop him.

Althea grabbed his waist and inched herself up his half-petrified-half-wiggling body.

"Fucking bitch!" he growled, rolling onto his back. "Get off me!"

Sirius's hands pressed into her shoulders, and Althea, straddling his waist, fought to push them away.

"I won't let you—I won't—I won't let you hurt her!" she forced out, her hands interlocking with his as they pushed back and forth.

Sirius's fingers tightened around hers; her fingers growing numb. "You aborted the first one, you abandoned second one," he snarled, his arms fully extended, "you aren't fit to be a mother!"

"It's not true!" she shouted, putting all of her weight forward and causing his arms to buckle. "I wanted them, you horrible bastard!"

"Not as horrible as you!" he shouted and developed a maniacal grin. "When I see her, I think I'll tell her that her mother's dead!"

Althea's fingernails purposefully dug into the backs of his hands. "I'll alert the Ministry!"

Sirius laughed loudly, mirthlessly. "They'd chuck you in Azkaban for harboring a fugitive!"

"I'll take that chance!" she replied, looking firmly into his eyes. "I'd do anything to protect her!"

Sirius let out a loud, deliberate laugh. "Even have a dementor suck out my soul?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Althea's grip loosened slightly as she briefly stopped struggling.

Sirius chuckled knowingly. "An empty threat."

Enraged at Sirius' smugness, Althea leaned forward, and unblinking, sneered, "I'll kill you myself."

Sirius rolled his eyes, leaned forward, and unblinking, sneered, "Likely."

"What's all this?" Remus asked loudly and with disbelief.

Sirius gave her a triumphant smile and Althea narrowed her eyes at him. She stopped struggling as she looked toward Remus. Remus—his shirt incorrectly buttoned, his hair wet, and barefoot—looked at the pair with a mixture of horror and confusion.

"Oh, Moony, help!" Sirius pleaded and Althea quickly turned her head. Sirius fought to hide his smile as he continued, "She's cursed me and now she'll kill me!"

"Don't listen to him!" she warned, looking into Sirius eyes. "He knows about Prudence. He was about to leave and to kidnap her."

"_Kidnap_?" Sirius yelled—his voice unnaturally high. "She's my daughter!"

"Oh, fuck," Remus muttered.

Remus stepped off the cobblestone path and onto the gravel path leading to the carriage house. His face was very pale and a trembling hand massaged his jaw. His eyes locked with Althea's and she cowered somewhat. She had betrayed him as well.

"You told him?" Remus asked—his voice strained.

"I didn't, I swear," she answered, Sirius's hands slipping from hers. "He discovered her photograph—the photograph I received yesterday."

Remus shook his head. "She sent you a photograph with your father's book?" he asked incredulously.

Althea nodded.

Immediately, Remus's expression changed—his mind working quickly, determining what to do next. _Remus, I need you_, she thought, pleading with her eyes, but Remus turned his attention toward Sirius. He ran his fingers through his wet hair as he frowned in thought, and wiped his palm on his trouser leg before he looked to Althea.

"Althea, please stand," Remus demanded quietly, offering his hands to her.

Althea shook her head. "The curse will wear off and he'll leave," she said, pointing toward Sirius. "He will! He'll go after her!"

Sirius laughed spitefully as he rolled his eyes.

Remus, his expression grim, crouched beside them. "Sirius, do I have your word that you won't do anything rash—"

"You might want to rephrase that," she remarked, "Sirius is incapable of rational thought."

"And you are?" Remus sighed, and Sirius laughed loudly and with exaggeration. He frowned thoughtfully as he rested a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Sirius, I need your word that you'll listen to Althea. It's very important. After, you can make whatever decision you need to," he explained and she grumbled as Sirius gave a triumphant smirk, "_but_ understand I cannot allow you to have contact with Prudence. I will stop you."

Sirius turned his head and squinted as he looked at Remus. "You knew about Prudence?" he asked—Althea could hear the feeling of betrayal in his voice.

"Do I have your word?" Remus asked as Sirius removed Remus's hand from his shoulder.

"She's my daughter," he answered firmly, turning his head away from the both of them. "_My daughter_."

"You didn't know she existed before today," Remus replied—matter-of-fact—and paused, something flickered in his eyes. "I understand," he breathed knowingly.

Sirius's expression hardened as he looked off into the bushes.

"Of course," Remus murmured, nodding his head. "Would you like to tell Althea what you said in our only conversation about Prudence," he asked, poking Sirius' shoulder with his index finger, "or would you like me to?"

Sirius swallowed—the muscles in his neck contracted—as his lips remained firmly shut.

"Right," Remus murmured as he gave a curt nod. "Althea, I'd recommend sitting next to me—"

"No, thank you, I'm comfortable where I am."

"God," he muttered, closing his eyes, "I reckon it's best if you do."

"No, just say it, Remus."

Remus reluctantly opened his eyes as Althea intently stared at him, waiting for the details of the conversation.

He inhaled a moderate breath, cast a weary look at Sirius, and spoke, "He was somewhat relieved that Prudence had died—"

"_What_?" she asked, quickly turning her head toward Sirius.

Sirius remained silent and continued to look toward the bushes. _How could he think such a horrible thing_, she asked herself, feeling the tears well in the corners of her eyes. Relieved that his daughter was dead? Why would he want her back if he thought her better dead? _This is out of spite—not out of love for her_. Althea removed herself from Sirius and groaned—grabbing her leg—as a sharp pain jolted through her throbbing ankle.

"You were happy she _died_?" she asked, horrified. "Was it all an act—furnishing her nursery, buying her toys—was it? Leave us in Bermuda and forget about us?"

"No," he answered, turning his head to look into her eyes, "that she didn't have to grow up thinking her father was a murderer."

Althea violently bit her bottom lip. _I've thought that, too_, she thought, clutching her shin. _That Prudence was better off not knowing about us…. Maybe he will understand, then_.

Sirius lifted his eyes to look at Remus. "You have my word…I'll listen."

"Excellent," Remus replied, standing—his knees popping loudly.

Remus took his wand from his trouser pocket, directed it toward Sirius's legs, and muttered the counter curse. Sirius rotated his ankles and sat up, resting his forearms on his bended knees. Althea looked to her ankle and pulled a face. Her ankle was swollen and red, and a violent purple bruise encompassed the joint. She gingerly placed the tip of her wand against the joint and muttered a Healing Charm—the swelling, redness, and bruise immediately vanished. She carefully flexed her ankle, and satisfied with her result, shyly glanced toward Sirius. He, too, was looking at her ankle.

"Your ankle," Sirius began, pointing at it, "it's all right, then?"

Althea nodded as Remus offered his hand to her. Althea stood and brushed the dust and gravel from her sundress and legs. Remus held out a hand for Sirius, but Sirius shook his head and stood on his own.

"Your wand's over there, Sirius," she said, indicating with her hand at a row of bushes.

"I know where it is," he replied coolly and bent to retrieve it.

"Do you agree the solarium is a good place to have this talk?" Remus asked her, his index finger stroking the back of her arm.

Althea nodded as Sirius placed his wand in his trouser pocket. "Will you help?"

"Of course," he murmured, resting his hand in the middle of her back. "Come on."

In silence, the three entered her home and Althea nervously thought of the best way to tell Sirius—to be able to convince him. _God, please help him understand_, she prayed as they entered the solarium. Upon entering, Althea abruptly stopped, her stomach convulsing from her guilt, as the phonograph ominously played:

_You been bad to me woman, but it's coming back home to you—_

"I reckon we don't need this interrupting us," Remus said lightly and, with a quick flick of his wrist, his wand turned off the phonograph. "Shall we sit?"

Althea timidly passed Remus, picked up her sketchbook and placed it at her side as she sat on the sofa. Her eyes followed Sirius as walked by and sat at the sofa underneath the large window. She therapeutically rubbed her hands together as Sirius sat—ashen-faced—his eyes looking toward the floor, and his hands in tight fists in his lap. Althea never felt more frightened. How would they protect Prudence if Sirius did not understand—if he insisted on reclaiming his daughter? Would she be able to do what was needed to protect her? What lengths would she go? Could she forsake the knowledge of Sirius's innocence to protect Prudence? If need be, she would. Althea no longer cared about what little relationship she had with Sirius. Her daughter was more important than any man's love.

Althea heard the sofa creak as Remus sat next to her, and felt small comfort when he placed his rough hand on the smooth skin of her back. Her eyes shifted from Sirius to the floor, and she inhaled a deep breath. It was time to tell him something that she had never spoke of since the incident—why she gave Prudence away. Even after twelve years, she did not understand much of it, and had blocked some of it from her mind. It was too painful to relive, to analyze, and to come to a satisfying conclusion—her reason was absurd at best; however, she would try to explain.

"The night I was tortured," she began nervously, and moistened her lips, "I was taken to Gran's…. I didn't know if she—Prudence—would be all right…neither did Madam Doula…some Midwives we were, right? She had to induce me, but the Misfiring Magic…the Inducing Potion didn't take the first time."

Althea paused and sighed, her body feeling very cold in the warm, bright solarium. She glanced up, but Sirius continued to stare at his fists, now shaking and white.

"The second potion took, and I was so frightened—it wasn't supposed to happen…I thought you dead," she continued and shyly tucked a curl behind her ear. "I'd asked Remus—"

Sirius quickly looked at the pair—his expression livid.

Remus shifted next to her.

"I wouldn't let him leave, Sirius. I didn't know where you were, and I needed someone."

Sirius inhaled a loud, angry breath as he narrowed his eyes at the pair. "James and Lily were dead," he said through clenched teeth. "I was looking for Peter."

"And I didn't matter," she muttered bitterly and Sirius quickly stood.

Remus leapt from the sofa and placed his hands on Sirius's chest, holding him back. "Sit—down—let—her—finish!" Remus demanded as Sirius struggled against him. "Don't—do—something—you'll—regret!"

Sirius stopped struggling and cast Althea a dark look. "I only regret _her_," he said, angrily thrusting his hand toward Althea as he gruffly sat down. "I reckon it was good that she chucked our kid to some Muggles…. I wouldn't want her as a mother." Sirius eyed Althea and let out a laugh of contempt. "Death Eaters did the world a favor by making her infertile—"

Althea leapt from the sofa and charged toward Sirius; however, before she could reply, she felt a very strong arm around her chest and a hand tightly clasped over her mouth. Shaking from rage, she struggled against Remus—arching her back as Remus held her tightly to him. Sirius folded his arms and rolled his eyes at her display.

"I'm tired of this, Althea," he whispered heatedly, his moist breath warming her ear. "Grow _up_."

Althea narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth at which Remus's hand pressed harder against her lips.

"Don't you even think of biting me," he warned, "or I will bite you, and I sincerely doubt you'd want that."

Althea, defeated, closed her mouth and relaxed. Remus guided her toward the sofa and the two sat down. _He'll say more hateful things_, she thought as Remus's hand returned to her back. _Just continue with the explanation and ignore him. You've hurt him and he'll try to hurt you…ignore it_.

Althea looked toward Remus and he nodded for her to continue. Scratching her temple, she attempted to remember where she had stopped in the explanation.

"Right," she murmured, furrowing her eyebrows, "it took two doses of the Inducing Potion…."

She looked from Remus to Sirius. Sirius, his arms folded, was staring at her as if the explanation did not matter…as if he had already decided to reclaim Prudence. Althea needed to remember more details—even the most painful of details—in hope to change his decision.

Althea clasped her shaky hands in her lap. "Madam Doula believed Prudence would be okay, but there was that chance—a enormous chance—that Prudence would be stillborn. She didn't want to admit it, but I truly believe that she thought Prudence was dead," she explained, looking to her hands—feeling tears well in the corners of her eyes. "No one wanted to say it—but I knew. At one moment, I believed so as well…. Until I heard her," she continued, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

She looked to Sirius, who had unfolded his arms—his hands slightly trembling.

Althea sighed and looked toward the ceiling as she spoke, "Her cry was so beautiful…so loud, too." She let out a quiet laugh as she lowered her head, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. "I couldn't stop crying…I was hysterical, really. I wanted to grab her immediately, but Madam Doula wouldn't let me."

Althea wiped her eyes as she looked to Sirius. Sirius's hand covered his face as he shook. Was it working? Did he see how much she truly loved their daughter? Would he understand, now, why she had to give Prudence to the Parkers?

"She was absolutely gorgeous and perfect and tiny," she continued and smiled sadly. "I knew in that moment, all the fear, the regret, the ill-will of having her, vanished—"

"Why d'you get rid of her?" he croaked from underneath his hand.

"The morning after, a man from the Ministry arrived," she answered—ignoring his question. "I was exhausted…I was in no condition for an interview, but he didn't care…. The man told me of what happened and what you were in Azkaban for. I was threatened with Azkaban myself—"

Sirius growled with some unintelligible, but vehement swearwords.

"How the man discovered—I'm not sure, less than ten knew, right—but he asked where Prudence was," she continued and looked to her fingernails—she had broken two of them in the struggle outdoors. "Remus said that she was dead—"

"Dead? He's the one?" Sirius asked—his voice cracking as he looked to Remus.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "Dumbledore…or rather, he followed Dumbledore's orders."

"Dumbledore?" Sirius breathed suspiciously.

Althea nodded slowly as Sirius rubbed his eyes. "As I slept, Dumbledore and Gran had a meeting," she began and Sirius muttered, from behind his hand, a few vulgar words directed at Gran's character. She ignored them, and continued, "He believed there was a very real threat against Prudence, and it was best if the Wizarding world believed her dead…. We had a small funeral, and it was decided I'd go Muggle…just as my father—just as Gran—had done—"

"You know about Gran?" Sirius asked, lifting his tear-stained face from his hand.

Althea nodded. "In time, when I'd recovered, I would have left England—maybe to the US or to Canada," she explained and paused, frowning apprehensively. "I'd have gone with Remus, Sirius. We were to raise Prudence."

Sirius remained silent.

"Dumbledore was very opposed to the idea," she said and inhaled a deep breath. "He believed the threat so great that he suggested Prudence live with the Parkers…a Muggle couple. I wouldn't listen—she was my daughter. I was ready to run—"

"Why didn't you?" he snapped, folding his arms.

"Your mother," she answered quietly, "she came to the cottage, looking for Prudence."

Sirius slowly unfolded his arms and sat forward. "My mother?" he asked incredulously, not taking his eyes off Althea.

Althea nodded.

"How?" he asked shortly. "How did she know?"

Althea's eyes widened slightly. Had he forgotten that he sent his mother a letter detailing Althea's pregnancy and photograph of a very pregnant Althea?

"You," she replied cautiously, surprised he would not remember the letter.

"Me?" he asked, and Althea nodded. Sirius leaned back against the sofa, his face horrorstruck. "No!"

You obviously don't remember—"

"I swear to God, Althea," he breathed, shaking his head, "I did not tell her—I wouldn't—I'd never—"

"Yes, you did," she insisted, leaning forward. "She had a photograph and a letter—"

"_What_?"

"—that you wrote—"

"I never wrote her!" Sirius exclaimed, his eyes opened very wide, "EVER!"

"You did!" she insisted, slamming her fist against the sofa. "I saw the letter! I saw the photograph! It was a copy of a photograph I have!"

Sirius raised a trembling hand and smoothed the hair away from his face. "Mate," he said, looking to Remus, "I never wrote her. Please, tell Althea that I would _never_ write to that woman."

Remus shook his head. "I can't," he replied. "I saw the photograph and letter in your mother's hand."

Sirius leaned forward and rested his face in his hands. "Althea, I've done some right stupid things, but I would never, _never_ write her," he explained in earnest, and lifted his face to look at her. "You have to believe me on this one, love."

Althea shook her head. "How, then?" she asked as Remus's hand stroked her back. "You'd joked about it so many times. Send her a photo and maybe she'd die. I thought you did it."

"I didn't!"

Upset, Althea stood. "Right, I'll show you," she replied and held up her hands for the two to stay. "I'll show you the photograph and maybe you'll remember."

Hastily, Althea walked from the solarium, through the hallway, and into her father's study. She would prove to Sirius that she was not mad. Mrs. Black had a letter—in what she thought to be Sirius's handwriting (did she actually see the handwriting—she couldn't remember)—and a photograph. Standing on a small stool, Althea tapped her wand three times against the top shelf. Immediately, a hidden compartment revealed itself and inside a rather large box. Grabbing the box, she hurriedly returned to the solarium as Sirius ardently denied to Remus that he ever had contact with his mother. Heavily sitting on the sofa, she flung open the box and fumbled through photographs and mementos of Prudence and her pregnancy. Toward the bottom of the box, Althea let out a small laugh of triumph as she gazed at the photograph.

Holding the photograph, she sat next to Sirius. "Do you remember this photograph?" she asked, presenting him with the photograph.

Sirius held the photograph and shook his head, his eyes unwavering from the photograph.

"Seventh month," she began as the Sirius in the photograph rested his chin on Althea's shoulder, "at the small party in the cottage. I hadn't seen Lily in ages and you had arranged it somehow. I was so grateful…. We wouldn't have had any photos because the camera had exploded, remember?"

Sirius nodded slowly as the Althea in the photograph turned her head to kiss the young Sirius.

"Luckily, Peter—"

The feeling of ice water washing over her insides was overwhelming and she instinctively clasped Sirius's forearm. Realizing she had done so, she let go and looked up from the photograph—first to Remus (who sat pale and open-mouthed), and then, to Sirius. Sirius was quiet, his jaw twitched as his narrowed eyes looked at the photograph. Standing, she returned to her seat next to Remus, unable to speak.

Peter? Peter had betrayed her to Mrs. Black? The hatred and betrayal she felt toward Peter, at that moment, became so overwhelming that she had to close her eyes and lean forward. She rested her face in her cold palms and attempted to breathe deeply as not to faint. Her mind started to question every conversation and every interaction with Peter for some explanation of his betrayal. Had Peter planned it as he photographed the couple? How had he known Althea and Prudence had survived? A lucky guess? _How did he know_, she thought, massaging her upper arms. _Did he know we survived and sent this after? It has to be…but how_?

"I know what you're thinking, stop," Remus whispered, soothingly stroking her back. "You didn't matter, Lily didn't matter…no one mattered to Peter. You did nothing to him."

Althea nodded reluctantly—the Dementor's Kiss was still too kind for Peter.

"Finish telling him," Remus whispered. "Now, he'll see the threat—"

"Are we trying to justify it to Sirius, or to ourselves," she interrupted quietly as Sirius continued to stare at the photograph.

Remus did not reply.

Althea awkwardly smoothed out the skirt to her sundress and spoke, "I had no choice, Sirius, after I was presented with the photograph. I had to give her away. Your mother came to take her."

Sirius looked up from the photograph. "My mother?"

Althea nodded. "Your mother came to see her after she received the letter. She wanted to take her."

"'Take her?'" he repeated, his head snapping back. "What would she want with her?"

Althea's eyes shifted to the photograph in his hand. "She wanted to raise her," she answered quietly and looked up as Sirius laughed condescendingly.

"And you believed her?" he remarked, shaking his head as he looked at Althea. "She's an expert liar."

"She would have!" she replied emphatically as Sirius shook his head. "She had it all prepared. She would raise Prudence as her own."

"My mother?" he remarked incredulously and Althea nodded vigorously.

"It's true—"

"My _mother_ raise _our_ daughter?" he said skeptically, pointing to his chest. "Right, she'd chuck her in the Thames before she'd do that."

_It is ridiculous_, she thought as she saw the pain behind Sirius's laughter. _I wouldn't believe it as well if she had not been in the cottage threatening to take Prudence away…. She wanted her, Sirius, how can I make you see that_?

"Everything that Althea has said is true," Remus said and Althea felt an upsurge of gratitude. "I witnessed it…. Dumbledore believed as well—"

"Oh, _Dumbledore_," Sirius replied and rolled his eyes, "well, that changes everything now. I think I proved Dumbledore can be wrong, you know."

Althea turned to Remus. "He's not listening," she said fretfully. "He's already decided, I know it."

Remus's face hardened as he looked at Sirius. "Dumbledore wasn't wrong," he replied. "Your mother thought Althea unfit and sought to raise her."

Sirius laughed obnoxiously and muttered about his mother's lack of motherly instinct.

Remus was not deterred. "She returned to collect Prudence—or Ariadne as she would be known—and take her to live in that awful house you ran away from," he continued and Sirius's expression turned grim. "Left that awful house-elf to watch over us—"

Sirius furrowed his brow. "Kreacher?"

Althea nodded. "She'd broken up our marriage and threatened us with Azkaban," she said. "What was I to do? Your cousin had yet to torture the Longbottoms. Death Eaters were still captured daily, and that fear…it took ages."

Sirius remained quiet.

"I wasn't," she began and tilted her head to the side as she considered her words, "as strong as I am now. I'd lost everything—"

Sirius snorted.

"She could have a mum and dad, and she wouldn't have to fight or hide," she continued as Sirius eyed her with repulsion. "Prudence is safe and happy—all I've ever wanted for her…. I would've done anything for her…I would have died before I let anything happen to her."

"Well, maybe you should've," Sirius muttered, tossing the photograph to the floor.

Althea watched as the photograph gently and unhurriedly settled to the floor, before she asked, "What?"

"You're a coward," he remarked with disgust.

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "A cow—"

"Yes," he interrupted plainly—his voice louder—and Althea sat, open-mouthed. "You should have fought for her. You should have died for her."

The anger at her decision for Prudence bubbled inside her. How could he compare the two? Lily died saving Harry, and if Althea died, Prudence would have become Ariadne Black, or worse (Bellatrix always seemed a bit eager to prune the family tree, but unlike Mrs. Black, savored a literal interpretation). The thought of Prudence's future if Althea had not made her choice caused her to cringe violently. No, he could not compare the two!

"Like Lily," she snapped.

Sirius's face paled at her remark.

Althea leaned forward. "Is that what you thought happened?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "You spent twelve years thinking I died trying to protect our daughter, and in the end, we both died?" she conjectured and laughed contemptuously as Sirius remained silent. "Sorry I bloody ruined it for you."

"I would have done anything to keep her."

"Well, you couldn't, could you?" she said sharply and gasped as Sirius quickly stood.

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek and kicked at the photograph. "Fucking bitch," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. He growled as he tugged on his hair and Althea frowned as she watched him. "AT LEAST I'M NOT A COWARD!" he roared. "LILY DIED FOR HER SON—"

"I'M NOT LILY!" Althea shrieked as she jumped up from the sofa and stomped her feet against the floor.

The room went silent—except for the ringing in her ears. Althea endeavored to inhale large breaths as her body shook with rage. Sirius did as well—his breaths were loud and deliberate—his thin chest expanding with great exaggeration at every breath.

"Don't you dare compare our sacrifices," she said, rubbing her forehead with a shaky hand.

"Sacrifices?" he snorted. "You just didn't want _my_ daughter."

"I wanted her!" she yelled, quickly removing her hand from her forehead—it slapping against her thigh. "I didn't give her away willingly, Sirius! Don't you think I regret giving her away?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," he murmured, shaking his head as he roughly rubbed the back of his neck.

Sirius sank heavily into the sofa and covered his face with his hands. For a few moments, Althea watched Sirius as he groaned and sighed, slowly starting to rock himself back and forth. She had given his daughter away to Muggles. The repugnant thought caused Althea to shift her gaze outdoors to look at the small, blue birdhouse with the yellow roof that she constructed and painted at ten years of age. She had given his daughter away to Muggles. The thought reentered her mind and Althea shifted her gaze to the green, leafy plants of the solarium that desperately needed watering. She had given his daughter away to Muggles. Wincing at the thought, her eyes jerked from the plants to Sirius and her heart sank. Where was her Sirius—the overconfident, strong, and passionate man? Sirius sniffed loudly and quickly rubbed his eyes. Crying? Sirius's crying unnerved her and she therapeutically massaged her arms. _We were barely adults…still children, and we thought we could_…

She picked up the photograph from the floor and placed it in the box. Exhausted, she sat next to Remus—his eyes were closed and his fingertips gently massaged circles into his temples. The three sat in silence—only periodic birdcalls, a sniff, or a sigh broke the quiet. _What happens now_, she asked herself as she peered into the box next to her. A young Althea threw her head back and laughed as a young Sirius kissed and hugged her newly pregnant abdomen. _You promised me that you would do anything to protect us, and I promised Prudence that I would do anything to protect her…. So, what happens now_?

"I have to see her," Sirius said hoarsely, lifting his face from his hands.

Althea caught her breath as she saw the sad determination in his eyes

"Wizarding laws are different than Muggle laws," he continued to explain—his voice still hoarse, a large crease appearing between his eyebrows.

Althea leaned forward and winced in anticipation of what was to come next. "Don't, Sirius, _please_."

"She's not Muggle-born."

"It doesn't matter—"

"I'm her father," he interrupted harshly, giving her a stern look. "I didn't give her away."

_Oh God, why must I tell him that he isn't Prudence's father_, she thought, and the feeling of her body collapsing upon itself returned. Upon learning of Sirius's betrayal, she was ashamed and frightened. How could she not be? The reproachful looks and the questions that challenged her character—she was the lover of a murderous madman. She willingly bore his child—a child forever tainted by the sins of her father. Althea's intimacy was her guilt.

Althea closed her eyes as she said quietly, "You're not."

She slowly opened her eyes to witness Sirius's reaction. His face unnaturally pale, Sirius's expression altered to disbelief and confusion.

"You're not her father," she continued, tears welling in her eyes as she saw the wounded look upon Sirius's face. "She doesn't have a father."

Sirius's mouth attempted to form what Althea thought to be, "How?"

Althea did not wipe away the guilty tears trickling down her cheeks. "I never wrote your name on the birth certificate," she spoke, the words instantly tasting bitter and causing her stomach to retch.

Sirius shook his head. "You're lying," he said, his voice strained.

"No," she said, taking the folded parchment from the box. "Look," she added, standing.

Sirius's quivering fingers reluctantly took the parchment from her hands. Althea returned to her sofa and covered her mouth with her hand as Sirius unfolded the parchment. She forced down the bile rising in her throat as Sirius's eyes scanned the parchment.

"God," he whispered, horrified, as he looked at the parchment, "no!"

Sirius crumpled the parchment in his hand, and in a swift movement, stood and brandished his wand in an attempt to destroy the birth certificate.

"'Father: unknown!'" he yelled and cast a charm meant to ignite the parchment.

The flames licked the parchment, but the parchment refused to ignite.

"It can't be destroyed," she said ruefully as Sirius seemingly ignored her.

"'Father: unknown!' Father: Sirius Black!" he growled and cast another charm to add his name.

"Or altered—it's magically binding," she explained as Sirius growled and threw the balled up parchment across the solarium.

Sirius's hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes glared at the parchment that rested against the skirting board.

"She isn't—"

Sirius quickly turned on his heel and pointed a thin finger at Althea as he bellowed, "DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT!"

Sirius continued to point his index finger at her face, his nostrils flared and his expression wild. "She isn't your daughter," she said as she looked at the tip of his unsteady finger. "You've never had a daughter and you have no rights to her."

Sirius's eyes narrowed as his arm fell—his hand loudly slapping against his thigh. "No rights?" he remarked and shuddered as Althea nodded. "NO RIGHTS!" he roared and thrust his wand toward the opened, white-painted door—the door exploded off its hinges, teetered for a moment, and fell with a loud _bang_. "SHE'S MY GOD DAMN DAUGHTER!" he shouted and thrust his wand toward a row of potted plants.

The pots exploded, sending shards of pottery and soil at the three. Remus and Althea quickly covered their faces as the small and large shards hit them. Wiping the dirt from her arms and sundress, Althea noticed that Sirius had grabbed the box that contained mementos of Prudence. Frantic, Althea leapt from the sofa as Sirius raised his wand at the box.

"_NO_!" she shrieked, lunging at him and knocking the box from his hand.

The box fell to the floor and the papers, photographs, and other keepsakes scattered across the dirt- and pottery-covered floor. Pushing off Sirius, Althea fell to her knees and scrambled to collect the treasures.

"It's all I have," she wept as tears fell on a paper showcasing Prudence's tiny footprint in pink paint.

"I HAVE NOTHING!" he roared and Althea heard him collapse onto the sofa. "How could you do this to me, Althea?" he asked—his voice struggling to be audible.

Althea looked up to Remus as he handed her a photograph that landed upon his naked foot. His face bore the strain of the conversation, and she mouthed that he could leave. Remus shook his head.

"How?" Sirius managed to ask.

Althea lowered her head and gazed at the photograph of the young Althea bathing Prudence. The young Althea held Prudence close to her for the picture and kissed her soapy head. "I couldn't write your name. I was so ashamed—so ashamed that her father murdered…" she said, but could not continue—the lump in her throat unbearably painful. She watched as the young Althea laughed and spat out soap as Prudence's hand clung to Althea's wet shirt. "It was to protect her," she finished uneasily and placed the photograph in the box.

"Coward," Sirius muttered with disgust.

Althea picked up the last photograph and lovingly wiped the dirt away. It was the photograph she most loved—the first photograph of mother and daughter. The young, exhausted Althea held the sleeping baby; Prudence cozily nestled in the blanket Lily made. _I have Hogwarts_, she thought, feeling the immediate ache of parting with something so treasured. _He has nothing_.

Sirius eyes followed Althea as she approached, she clutching the photograph to her chest. Carefully, she reached out for his hand and held it in hers. "This is the first photograph," she said, gently placing the worn photograph into his hand. "Keep it."

Sirius looked from her to his hand, and retracted his hand toward him—looking at the photograph. "Enough," he murmured, his eyes bright with tears. "Enough," he repeated and stood, placing the photograph in the breast pocket of his shirt. "Please, stand aside," he said and Althea took a step back.

Althea turned as Sirius walked toward the doorway. "Where are you going?" she asked—her voice slightly panicked as Sirius took a large step over the fallen door.

"I don't care what that bloody paper says," he said, looking out into the corridor. "She's mine, and no one else will raise my child."

* * *

You been bad to me woman, but it's coming back home to you... -"Your Time Is Gonna Come" by Led Zeppelin (Jones/Page)


	11. Chapter Eleven

******Chapter 11**

Althea's stomach lurched forward and she grimaced—her entire justification of Prudence's adoption had been in vain. She had divulged to him painful details that she had suppressed for almost thirteen years; memories, which she had prayed would convince him that he could not reclaim Prudence. She had given him a photograph of mother and daughter at the happiest of moments—a photograph not tinged with the sadness of death and betrayal, but a photograph celebrating the arrival of a baby thought lost. Sirius stood before her, defiant. It was never about Prudence. He wanted to make right every mistake he created—even those he imagined that he had made.

"No!" she forced herself to breathe—her eyes widened in fear. "No!"

Sirius outstretched his hand toward her and she vigorously shook her head. "Come with me, Althea," he offered, determined, his dull eyes looking into hers. "We can get her back. We can right this."

"You're mad!" she said with surprise. "I won't—you can't get her back!"

Sirius lowered his head and furrowed his eyebrows. "_Don't_tell me what I can and can't do," he replied, and turned toward the doorway.

Althea gasped as he lifted his foot to take a step forward. "_NO_!" she shrieked and raised her wand; however, it was not her spell that struck Sirius.

At the same moment, Remus had stood and aimed his wand at Sirius's back. In a voice that drowned out her own, Remus' spell exploded from his wand, causing Sirius to jolt forward at its power. The spell manifested thin cords that snaked around Sirius's wrists and ankles, and as he struggled, the cords tightened around his limbs. Off-balance, Sirius fell backwards and his body crashed into the fallen door. Remus walked forward as Sirius—fighting with the restraints—rolled onto his side.

Sirius looked up at him and cast Remus a dark look. "Why—d'you—do—this—to—me?" he growled, continuing to struggle with the bindings.

"I said that I would stop you," he replied, looking down at his struggling friend. Remus looked over his shoulder at Althea. "I'd like to speak with him," he explained, pointing at Sirius who chewed at his wrist bindings, "privately, of course."

"He won't listen—"

"I'd like to speak with him, privately," Remus interrupted and his hardened expression insinuated that she could not argue.

Althea sniffed as she placed her wand in her sundress pocket. "Right," she murmured and stooped to pick up the box.

_What could he say that would change Sirius's mind_, she thought as she passed the writhing and growling Sirius. As she exited, she glanced at Sirius—who had rolled onto his stomach—and shook her head. _There is nothing Remus could say to him to change his mind_.

"Althea, you're a coward!" she heard Sirius shout as she entered the hallway.

Althea did not stop, but continued toward the library.

"If you loved me, if you loved our daughter, you'd let me find her!"

Althea caught her breath and rested her hand against the doorframe. "Damn it, Sirius, no," she murmured, resisting the temptation to rush into the solarium to hex him into believing her.

Reluctantly releasing the doorframe, she shook her head as she entered the library. No, Remus would talk to him. Remus would talk to him and convince him in a way Althea never could. _He should be angry with Remus as well_, she thought, sitting on the floor against the far library wall—its other side, the solarium. _He isn't, though. I don't understand it_. Althea rested her head against the cool wall and waited for the conversation to begin. _Please, don't cast a Silencing Charm_, she thought, _I want to hear this explanation_.

"Remus, untie me…. What—what are you doing?"

"I won't talk to you from the floor. I'd at least like you to be comfortable for what I'm about to say."

_Get on with it_, Althea thought as she frowned. _Put a gag on him or something, Remus_.

"Mate—"

"I won't let you hurt Prudence—"

"Hurt her? She's my daughter!"

"I swore to Althea that I would protect her, Sirius."

"How bloody noble of you," Sirius replied, "as if she deserves your loyalty."

Althea felt the back of her neck flush with anger.

"You have no idea what she sacrificed—"

"Sacrificed?" Sirius laughed. "I reckon she's managed quite well."

"You would ignore all that has been said to you and take Prudence from the only home she has ever known?"

Sirius was quiet.

"She doesn't know that she's your daughter. You broke in to Hogwarts—broke into the very dormitory she slept in—and you don't think that frightened her in the least?

"I wasn't—"

"You would hurt her."

Althea cast her glance upward at the ceiling. She mouthed, "Thank you."

"Imagine if you showed up on her doorstep? Do you really believe you'd be able to introduce yourself and say that you're her father?"

"Why not? Harry—"

"You're her boggart."

"What?"

"You are her boggart—actually, many of the first-years were frightened of you," Remus explained and Althea raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to frighten her?"

"My daughter is afraid of me?"

Althea thought she heard Remus murmur, "Yes."

"Afraid of me?" he repeated—his voice cracking. "My God, what have you done, Althea?"

"She—"

Sirius growled with frustration. "My daughter hates me!" he shouted and Althea covered her face with her hands. "My daughter hates me just as I hate my father! Are you happy, Althea? Are you?"

"Oh, God," she whispered, letting her hands slip from her face.

In doing so, she allowed her gaze to drift to the open box, to a partially hidden photograph of the couple. Gingerly, she lifted the photograph from underneath the other mementos and brought it close to her to examine it. _I had to_, she thought as the young Sirius rested his head against the young Althea's enlarged abdomen. _If we were separate, she had a chance. Look what happened to the Longbottoms, look what happened to me that night…. We weren't the only people tortured after Voldemort fell._

"My daughter believes I'm a murderer, Althea!" Sirius yelled as Althea's fingers tightened around the photograph.

The young Sirius in the photograph immediately jerked his head back from the young Althea's abdomen and laughed as he massaged his cheek.

"She calls Althea, 'Professor,'" Remus replied shortly.

"She gave away our child!"

"She didn't exist for you before today!" Remus replied quickly, his voice louder.

Althea's eyes widened slightly. _He never raises his voice_, she thought as Sirius went silent.

"For twelve years, she's lived with the fact her daughter—_your_daughter—calls another woman, 'mother.' Could you imagine what it must be like for Althea?" Remus questioned as the tears welled in her eyes.

_It's hell_, she thought, small tears trickling down her cheeks, _to be that insignificant to someone so important_. She knew she was useless, a bystander in Prudence's life. _Professor Morrigan, the kindly schoolteacher that offers chocolate, is all I'll ever be_, she thought, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her right hand.

"At Hogwarts, being that close to her daughter, and her daughter will only address her as, 'Professor Morrigan'? She won't even have the benefit of having her daughter take her class."

"It didn't have to be that way."

"No, it didn't, did it?" Remus remarked—his voice calm once more.

Althea straightened. What did he mean? With her wand, she tapped the wall and muttered an Amplification Charm. The two men were quiet and Sirius seemed reluctant to respond.

"I wasn't ready," Sirius finally answered.

The muscles of Althea's stomach tightened.

"I regretted everything—Althea, the pregnancy—I didn't want to end up like James…. I should've left her—it was constantly on my mind—but I couldn't. She was so helpless—"

"_What_?" Althea mouthed angrily, sitting forward.

_Oh, he is such_, she thought and narrowed her eyes, _he was hardly there! Right, I was a weak witch that needed an idiot like him to look after me. Bloody well done, Sirius, you were great help_.

"—the Misfiring Magic and all. I felt as if it was my fault. I couldn't leave her then…. Not until Bermuda."

"Bermuda?" she mouthed, a sinking feeling manifested in her stomach.

_I should've known_, she thought, massaging her abdomen. _Of course, he wouldn't leave me in England. He'd leave me in Bermuda where I couldn't leave_. Althea slid lower against the wall—embarrassed at her awesome stupidity. _He wanted me out of the way…. Why would I have ever thought differently_?

"You were planning on leaving her here?" Remus asked knowingly.

"After Prudence's birth," Sirius replied and sniffed, "I'd convince Althea it would be best if I'd return and fight."

_As if I'd let you leave_, she thought, and looked at the photograph in her hand. She frowned as the young Althea stroked and kissed the young Sirius's cheek. Disgusted, she tossed the photograph inside the box.

"She'd be alone."

"She'd be safe."

"She would never agree to it."

"Right," she mouthed, folding her arms.

"How long would you plan to stay away?"

"I don't know…. Until it was over—"

"That could've been years," remarked Remus.

"I had to protect—"

"You might've died never knowing your daughter."

"I don't know her now!" Sirius shouted. "Althea took that from me!"

"You were ready to leave her twelve years ago—"

"Temporarily!" corrected Sirius—his voice higher. "I had to look after James. I had a responsibility to my godson."

Althea's body trembled with rage. _We were always an afterthought to you_, she thought, her eyes focused on the photograph of Prudence in her cot. A young Althea picked up Prudence and held her close, rocking and kissing her. _James was always your first priority_. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep breaths, forcing herself to remain seated in the library. _You don't care about her, Sirius. You don't love her—you never knew her to love her as I do_!

"What about your responsibility to Prudence?" Remus asked and Althea opened her eyes. "You never exhibited the same devotion, the same affection, toward Althea and your child as you did to James and Lily's son."

"How dare you say that," Sirius replied, "when Althea abandoned my daughter to some Muggle couple!"

_Enough_, she thought as she inhaled a deep breath and stood—her hand tightly clutching her wand—purple and gold sparks erupting from the wand tip. _He deserves a nasty hex that will leave him reeling for days_. Althea took large strides as she crossed the library and imagined particularly gruesome hexes she could inflict upon Sirius.

"I will blast him out of the solarium and off this bloody island!" she whispered heatedly as she reached the door.

"How can you say that?" Remus asked harshly. "Althea was devoted to your daughter…even after we told her of what you had done."

Althea stopped and looked through the doorway into the hall. _He hasn't given up_, she thought and lowered her wand.

"Did you forget, Moony? I'm not on Prudence's birth certificate!"

"It was done for her protection," Remus explained quickly. "She didn't have a choice…_we_didn't give her a choice, actually. Anyone remotely connected to you was questioned and suspicion followed them for a long time."

"Come of it."

"It's true, Sirius…. I remember, when I visited Althea after she returned from Relief Healing. I found her drunk, sobbing, on the cottage floor—"

Althea covered her mouth with her hand as Remus described the event. Upon returning from Transylvania, to gain some former remnant of her life back, Althea applied for a position at St. Mungo's in the Artefact Accidents department. Energized at the positive feedback during the interview and the interviewer's visible appreciation at Althea's Relief Healing, Althea believed (with ample encouragement from the interviewer) that her position as Assistant Healer-in-Charge in Artefact Accidents would be secure. However, upon her interview with the panel of Healers-in-Charge, the Healer-in-Charge for Magical Bugs vividly remembered that Sirius escorted Althea home on numerous occasions...and sometimes greeted her with a kiss. Unable to deny such allegations, her application was tossed into the dustbin and she was told that St. Mungo's was looking for a Healer in Creature-Induced Injuries instead.

Althea uncovered her mouth. _I lost Afina shortly after that_, she thought as she walked toward the wall. She sat, brought her knees to her chest, and rested her forehead against her folded arms. _I wanted to drink myself to death_.

"I had escorted her home! Death Eaters killed or captured Healers!"

"She saw you kiss her."

"I didn't want anything to happen to her!"

"Do you think it mattered to that Healer-in-Charge? To her, you were the second in command to Voldemort, snogging a former St. Mungo's Healer. Don't laugh…people readily believed that you were Dark—the propaganda put forth by the Ministry was overwhelming."

"Damn…. She could've worked at other hospitals."

"She couldn't have worked at another hospital. It would require a reference and the Healers-in-Charge weren't apt to give it."

"Midwifery—"

"Oh right, Sirius," Althea muttered.

"She couldn't have children and she lost her only daughter," Remus said with a small amount of condescension. "She would never return to Midwifery…it would be too painful."

"She didn't have to work," Sirius replied. "She had loads of money."

"That's not the point, Sirius. She loved the Healing Arts and Midwifery. It was taken from her—just like Prudence, just like you—"

"Are you blaming me?" Sirius asked defensively. "Althea and now, you?"

"No, I'm blaming the circumstances," he explained. "Look, you had no control over being sent to Azkaban—"

_Yes, he did_, Althea thought darkly, looking ahead of her. _He could've been the Secret Keeper. Lily and James would be alive, no exploded street, and no dead Muggles. I'd still have Prudence; although, I doubt she'd see her father_. It was a thought that periodically surfaced, and no matter how much she fought to suppress it, it licked at her insides—Sirius's choice killed Lily and James. It reminded her that his pride mattered most. _He was so sure_, she thought and shook her head. _Why had he been so reckless with the lives he supposedly loved above mine_?

"Don't you see, Sirius," Remus implored, "Althea didn't rid herself of Prudence willingly. On the contrary, she fought to get her back."

Althea straightened. She did not speak of that December night. She had reluctantly told Remus few details in Alexandria at Sister Margaret's urging. It was the only memory of her daughter she could muster in that hellish prison. _It was the only memory I could keep_, she thought, frowning. The dementors seemed to delight in the sadness of lost motherhood. Attracted to such thoughts, the dementors fed off her with greater vigor, to the point she would vomit as she felt Prudence slipping from her arms. At those times, she would force herself to recount other memories. Her mind would fixate on the lifeless form of her mother—how strange the memory of her dead mother would bring her respite?

"How?"

"They had to forcefully take Prudence from her…. I had to restrain her, but she broke free and chased after the car."

"She got her back then?"

"Oh no, no. That night," he replied and sighed sadly. "She stole—"

_Stole? She's my daughter_.

"—Prudence from the Parkers…Gran helped."

"Gran?" Sirius asked, shocked. "Althea's Gran? Hardly. It's _my_daughter, remember?"

"She did," Remus replied resolutely. "She orchestrated Althea's escape to America…. They were on the run for a month—"

"A month?"

"Yes."

"How'd they discover her then?"

"I'm not sure, really…. I'm not sure of the details—"

_I am_, Althea thought, massaging her upper arms. She tightly shut her eyes in attempt to force herself to keep from remembering, but it was useless. In a secluded hollow, in a cottage decorated for Christmas, Althea quietly sat, nursing Prudence. The only sound came from the Wizard Wireless, which filled the cottage with American Wizarding Christmas Carols. The warmth of the fire and the soothing carols soon lulled mother and child to peaceful sleep; however, furious knocking at the door interrupted the peaceful sleep. Never having visitors, a frightened Althea refused to answer the door and prayed the unwanted visitor would leave. It did not matter, as Dumbledore burst through her front door—the snow swirling around his billowing cloak—with the Parkers behind him. Althea refused to give up Prudence, and in a last effort, she escaped through the back door and into the snowy night. _If only I had continued_, she thought as she remembered that she lost sensation in her feet as she attempted to climb large snowdrifts. _I could've made it to that house on the hill…. I was almost there—I could see the smoke from the chimney and the lights inside_.

"It was decided that it would be best if she left England," Remus continued to explain. "She joined the Foreign Relief Healer Program."

"Where were you, Moony?" Sirius asked sharply.

"What?"

"Where were you?" Sirius asked with increased insistence. "Why didn't you help her?"

Althea stopped massaging her upper arms and sat very still, waiting for Remus's response. Why hadn't he helped her? _I had always assumed that he didn't know_, she thought, furrowing her eyebrows. _Or that it was a full moon…was it_?

"Dumbledore—"

"_Dumbledore_?" Sirius growled and Althea felt a small appreciation for his anger. "You'd listen to Dumbledore before Althea?"

"No one listens to me," Althea murmured.

"It's not that simple—"

"Yes, it is!" exclaimed Sirius. "Where is your loyalty to Althea?"

"It's not that simple, Sirius," Remus insisted. "Let me explain—"

"You only cared for yourself!" Sirius accused.

"That isn't true—"

"You left her alone in a bloody cottage—you held her back—why didn't you—"

"I found her that night she was tortured!" Remus blurted out and Althea's eyes widened. "She was half-dead when I found her…bloodied and bruised—I barely recognized her. I didn't think she would survive…I'd never—they were preparing her for Bellatrix."

Sirius was silent.

"If Prudence had died, I don't believe Althea would've lived for much longer," he explained. "She was devoted to her—"

"You blamed her," Sirius said plainly.

Sirius words struck Althea's very heart.

"Don't bloody lie to me, you did," he continued. "Making up for it now, aren't you?"

"Sirius—"

"What did you tell her this time?"

"I don't understand—"

"Oh bloody hell," she breathed and covered her face with her hands.

"Come of it," Sirius laughed, "how could I _not_know?"

"It's not—"

"In twelve bloody years, you never once looked at Althea and thought, 'Yeah, I'll have a go'?" Sirius continued and Althea's skin grew hot. "I'd think you a damn liar. I know she has—I _see_she has."

"It's over," Remus said. "Wasn't much of anything."

Althea let out a low growl.

"How many years?" Sirius asked. "In this last year, right?"

"It's not important," he replied. "We're—"

Sirius's laughter drowned out the rest of Remus's reply. "I dare you to tell her that! 'Sorry, Althea, I shagged you for the hell of it…a bit of fun, really,'" he replied and sighed deeply. "I'd hate to witness that hex."

_I'll hex you_, she thought, roughly grabbing the box and standing as Sirius continued to tease Remus about Althea. _I'm very surprised he didn't follow with, 'Knowing her, Moony, she already had half the invitations addressed and the china pattern.' God, why did I ever fall in love with two idiots? I'm a joke to them! I'm bloody surprised they aren't swapping stories_!

"I'm not a fucking joke!" she whispered heatedly as she took great strides across the library floor. "If they want stories, I'll tell them!"

She had enough. Sirius had hijacked the conversation, and to Althea, Remus was incapable of reclamation._He is incapable of understanding, and if he did, it wouldn't be because of me_, she thought as she entered the hallway. Althea's eyes soon recognized the distinct, bright rays of the sun cascading out of the solarium and into the darkened hallway.

"I can't compete with your memory," she heard Remus say as she entered the doorway. "No man can."

Althea cringed the devastation in her solarium. Dirt, shards of pottery, and plants covered her floor. Sirius sat, still bound, next to Remus on the sofa underneath the windows.

"You ended it because I came back?" Sirius asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "Remus, I—"

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I ended it because I didn't want Althea dragged into the scandal…I was exposed." He picked at the armrest of the sofa. "It would've jeopardized her chance with Prudence."

Sirius sat back, and smirking, studied Remus. "Right," he replied, "the ex-convict is a brilliant choice."

"I choose neither," Althea said, stepping over the fallen door.

The two men turned their heads in Althea's direction. Althea bit her lip.

"Listening this entire time?" Sirius remarked as he eyed Althea with condescension. "You've always had that nasty habit of lurking about."

Althea did not respond as she walked toward the two.

"Well?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

"Here, look," Althea demanded, thrusting the box into Sirius's chest. "Maybe you'll understand then."

"I can't really hold this, can I?"

Remus sighed and tapped his wand against Sirius' shoulder. The bindings around his wrists and ankles loosened, fell to the floor, and disappeared.

"Thanks, Moony," he said, taking hold of the box. He looked inside and sighed. "Look, the daughter she kept from me…. Wait, I forgot, she isn't mine."

"Shut it," she snapped.

"What? I'm only stating the truth," he said as he picked up a photograph of Prudence in her cot and casually glanced at it. "What lengths you went to, right?" he added and looked into her eyes.

Althea took a deep breath and clenched her fists at her sides. "I'm not a joke."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

_I'm tired of this_, she thought—the anger and resentment bubbling inside her at Sirius's demeanor. _It's over._

"I'm not important," she said, looking from Sirius to Remus. "I was important enough for the both of you shag, wasn't I?" she remarked as Remus shifted uncomfortably. "Didn't you ever wonder how you compared?" she asked, unclenching her fists. "I know Sirius has," she continued, looking Sirius in the eyes, "he has to be the best at everything."

"Althea—"

"Shut it, Remus," she interrupted coolly, folding her arms. "Of course, you're used to keeping your mouth closed, aren't you?" she asked, her lips upturning into a wicked smile. "I've never met a man so _appalled _at the idea of going down on a woman. Have you, Sirius?" She looked toward Sirius and arched her eyebrow. "You're wondering what I'm about to say about you, aren't you?"

Sirius swallowed as he defiantly stared at Althea.

Althea sighed and screwed her eyes up in thought, unfolding her arms. "What _perversion_ could I pick?" she wondered aloud as she looked at the ceiling. "Muggle and the Wizard…Death Eater and the sacrificial virgin—you know, they didn't do that sort of thing (as if you cared)…Hogwarts detention—we _really_could have loads of fun with that one now," she explained and lowered her face to look at Sirius.

"Are you done? He already knew that," Sirius replied and nodded toward Remus. "I couldn't keep me mouth shut."

Althea resisted the urge to blast him through the solarium windows.

"Do you even realize how much I loved you?" she asked, letting her hands drop to her sides.

She searched Sirius's face for some response, but he only exhibited boredom. How she despised that look!

She ran her fingers through her hair. "Of course not," she murmured, frowning as she looked toward her sketchbook on the other sofa. Her eyes returned to Sirius and she sighed ruefully. "You took me for granted, Sirius. You were hardly there, and when you were there..." Althea shook her head as she let out a quiet, bitter laugh. She narrowed her eyes knowingly as she asked, "It was never as serious for you as it was for me. Was it?"

Sirius did not reply.

Sirius' silence ignited her. She was not afraid of what he would think of her anymore. She had nothing to lose for it was already lost. She felt slightly giddy.

"I was there…safe…you didn't have to work at it," she explained, looking at the photograph of the couple celebrating the news of Althea's pregnancy. "Always so bloody willing, wasn't I?"

"You know that's not—"

"It _is_ true," she interrupted, looking into Sirius's eyes. "I was always there to tend to your wounds, to listen, to make love to you." Althea closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I've gone through my adult life hating myself," she explained, opening her eyes and letting her arm fall heavily to her side, "thinking I'm a horrible person, unable to have a normal relationship with a man for fear he'd know my past. Know that _I loved you_."

"You shouldn't—"

"For heaven's sake, Sirius, I'm the bloody Muggle Studies professor!" she interrupted with exasperation. "I couldn't get a job at St. Mungo's because some Healer remembered me climbing on the back of your motorbike—"

"Remus told me," he said solemnly, furrowing his eyebrows. "Is it true you went to get her back?"

"Of course," she murmured, "because you'd never believe me if I had said it…. You've never listened to me."

"What?" he asked, bemused.

"Of course not," she muttered bitterly and sniffed. "Now you understand why I had to, don't you?"

Sirius rubbed the side of his face as he looked from the box to her. "I don't know," he replied and sighed. "I have to think, Althea, right?"

"Why would you believe Remus," she began to ask, motioning toward Remus, "before you would believe me?"

Sirius did not respond.

Althea slapped her hand against her thigh. "I can't do this anymore…. I'm through," she said, shaking her head. "Think without me, Sirius," she added and turned on her heel to walk away.

"Althea!" Sirius said as she heard his deliberate footsteps behind her. "Althea, wait," he pleaded, placing his hands on her upper arms.

Althea turned to face Sirius. "She wears the ring you gave me on my sixteenth birthday," she said and Sirius's face softened. "I've never seen her without it."

"She does?" he asked, his lips curving into a small, appreciative smile.

Althea nodded. "What will it take, Sirius?" she asked, looking into his eyes—his eyes showing no reply, only the haunted look of Azkaban.

Sirius sniffed as he looked above her head. "I don't know."

Althea gently removed his hands from her upper arms. "You've never loved me as much as I've loved you."


	12. Chapter Twelve

******Chapter 12**

Althea and Sirius had not spoken for three days.

Remus (of course) was able to convince Sirius in the disastrous consequences of searching out Prudence—a girl comfortable, unaware, and happy on holiday with her family. Since the morning of Remus's departure (Remus, of course, did not say goodbye), the two had lived in a chilly existence. The first night, Althea spent her evening at the local café in Meryton, chatting up a handsome hedge fund manager and left him at his hotel room doorstep—she unable to relinquish the image of Sirius from her mind as she kissed him. Was it guilt? Or was it embarrassment when she kissed him with greater enthusiasm? Sirius spent his days upon the beach, walking along the surf, and his evenings in the carriage house with the hippogriff. Vegetables from her garden soon disappeared, as did the box of Prudence's mementos. She found them the second night, when she peered through the carriage house window, Sirius sat with the open box before him—a few pictures scattered at his feet.

Althea entered her solarium and frowned. "What are you doing here?" she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

Sirius, with his hands behind his head, reclined against the sofa. He turned his head to look at her and smiled. "I have a penknife that unlocks any door," he explained and smiled smugly, "or any window."

"How could I have forgotten?" she remarked, her eyes traveling from Sirius to the opened window. "You ruined every lock at Northfield."

"Right," he began and scratched the side of his face, "we're talking today?"

"Unfortunately so," she sneered as Sirius' smile broadened. "At least you don't reek of hippogriff," she murmured and walked toward her writing desk.

"Oh, I didn't sleep in the carriage house," he replied, and she paused from pulling out her chair. "I slept in a very comfortable bed…. I just opened this window for a bit of fresh air."

Althea frowned. "What will it take for you to leave?" she asked as she sat.

"I can't leave," he laughed. "This, Althea, is the safest place for me."

Althea groaned as she placed paper upon the desk. "Again, how could I have forgotten?" she remarked hollowly as she opened her inkbottle.

"Admit it, you enjoy having me here."

"I'd enjoy you like I'd enjoy a Doxy infestation," she replied and roughly grabbed a quill.

"We both know you can't get rid of Doxies," he teased and the muscles in Althea's neck tensed. "Anyway, I'm more fun…if you know what I mean."

"Right," she sighed, placing her quill before her, "four days ago, you made it quite known that you thought me a horrible slag for unfairly chucking your daughter to some Muggle couple, and now—" Althea shook her head. "You're impossible, you know that."

"I've had time to think," he replied.

"You have, have you?"

Sirius sighed. "Writing to Remus?"

"No, Afina," she said, dipping her quill in the inkbottle.

"Afina," he murmured. "I've got it! You visit your niece, I stay here, and we'll both be happy."

"I can't," she replied, tapping her quill against the lip of the inkbottle. "Afina's on tour with Pan."

"Pan? Oh, right, that band."

"Yes, that very good band," she replied, fighting a knowing smile. "Anyway, I'm inviting her to stay with me…that means you'll have to leave."

"Likely," Sirius muttered.

Althea paused from writing her greeting. "I might believe in your innocence, but Afina doesn't," she replied plainly and returned to writing. "Go live with Remus, or in a cave…just don't live here, right?"

"As if I'd live in a cave."

"It suits you," she sighed and smiled as she imagined the unpleasant expression on Sirius's face.

"I'm staying," he replied resolutely. "I'll be a loveable stray that you brought in…. Who knows, Afina might enjoy my company."

Althea quickly turned to face Sirius. "You stay away from her," she demanded, pointing her quill at him.

Sirius smirked.

"I mean it," she said, shaking her quill for emphasis. Althea looked to the floor and noticed small dots of black ink. "Bloody hell," she murmured and pointed her wand toward the floor. Althea placed her wand in her dress pocket and looked once more to Sirius. "And you're too old."

Sirius eyes widened as he hastily sat up. "Too _old_?"

Althea looked Sirius over. "Yes, _too old_."

Sirius snorted as he rolled his eyes. "Too old," he retorted and threw himself back on the sofa. "Too jealous, more like it."

Althea sighed with annoyance as she returned to her letter. "I don't want you back," she said, dipping her quill in ink. "I want you to leave."

"We've gone through this loads of times, Althea," he replied with mild frustration, "this is the safest place for me…. Why don't you leave?"

"It's my bloody house," she said defensively as she attempted a warm greeting in her letter.

"Right, then," he began testily, "with a Permanent Sticking Charm, I'll attach a note to your forehead, in bold letters that I can't leave."

"I'd like to see you try," she muttered and continued her letter.

Sirius laughed. "Do you remember the time I attached a sign with a Permanent Sticking Charm to Snape's back?" he reminisced and laughed once more. "'The Fun Starts Here.'"

Althea fiercely fought a smile. "Yes," she began awkwardly, staring at her paper, "but all he had to do was remove his school robes and it was gone."

"Love, he only had one set."

"You are cruel."

"What?" he asked—his voice higher. "You laughed. You hated me at the time and you still thought it was hilarious."

"I didn't find it hilarious," she answered slowly. "I found it slightly amusing."

"Oh, _slightly_amusing," he repeated and clicked his teeth. "As if you're innocent," he continued knowingly. "Fifty Galleons from a poor schoolteacher."

"He agreed to it," she replied, noticing the ink on her quill had dried. "He could've benefited from the forfeit if he attended the staff party."

Althea dipped her quill in the inkbottle and frowned at her ink-stained letter. Casting a charm to remove the ink stains, she heard Sirius's footsteps behind her and they stopped at the phonograph. Crouching on the floor, he opened the cabinet and began to search her album collection.

"McCartney…McCartney…oh, Lennon, must be mine," he remarked as she heard him slip the album back into place.

"I don't have any of your albums," she replied as she finished the sentence that invited Afina to her home.

"Apparently not," he sneered. "Pan…Hobgoblins? Hobgoblins, Althea?" Sirius—with a raised eyebrow—looked at the back of the album.

"They're a good band," she replied defensively as Sirius looked up from the album to her.

"They wore makeup," he replied flatly and placed the album back, "and the lead—"

"He wasn't," she interrupted and Sirius smirked. "_He wasn't_."

"Okay, Althea," he said—fighting a laugh—and winked.

Althea returned to her letter and immediately extended the invitation to Pan—for after a grueling tour, Althea's home would be a relaxing escape. _He'll have to leave then_, she thought as Sirius commented about her Orpheus albums.

"Ugh, _Sweet Satisfaction_, how could I ever forget that album?" he groaned. "'Sirius, please buy this for me,'" he continued, impersonating Althea. "I was never so embarrassed."

"Right," she murmured, unconvinced.

"Oh, look at this!" he laughed appreciatively. "A bloody brilliant album cover—a naked woman."

Althea broke the tip of her quill, smudging the word 'lonely.' _Of course, it's brilliant_, she thought, her body rigid and her face flushing slightly, _it's me_. Althea vividly remembered the early afternoon on which that photograph was taken. She closed her eyes and secretly smiled, remembering the warm, soft grass against her nude body—the nudity was her idea. The muscles of her abdomen constricted in excitement as she remembered the cool paint Alexander used to write in elaborate cursive, 'Davina,' across her upper torso.

"'To my lovely, Davina, smile and laugh, you sweet, sad creature. So full of love, and yet, no one to reach you. Bloom, Althea. Your Alexander,'" Sirius read and Althea felt her stomach sink. "'_Your Alexander_?'"

Althea opened her eyes, disappointed that he would interrupt her memory. "So?" she asked, turning to face him.

"You shagged him, didn't you?" he demanded, pointing to the album cover of Althea's torso.

Althea smiled as 'Davina' shimmered from purple to blue. "I'm the woman on the bloody cover."

Sirius quickly opened and closed his mouth.

"It's tastefully done," she explained as Sirius stared at the album cover. "Look, you can't see my breasts—my hair's covering them," she continued, pointing to the bottom of a partially exposed breast.

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. "You're a schoolteacher."

"I wasn't a schoolteacher then," she replied dismissively and smiled as a purple butterfly landed next to her navel. "You wouldn't have known if I hadn't have told you."

Sirius grunted as he stared at the album artwork.

"You should be proud that so many can admire that lovely photograph," she said and Sirius made a face.

"I reckon they have," he muttered as his thumb slowly stroked the album cover. He sighed and pensively looked up at Althea. "Prudence could see this, you know."

Althea's smile faltered. He was correct—Prudence could see the photograph of her naked mother. _I was only twenty-one_, she thought as a gentle breeze caught Althea's hair in the photograph. _Look at me, though…I was so happy. I hadn't been that happy in ages. I felt so beautiful…I haven't felt that beautiful since then_.

Althea returned to her letter. "I was happy, Sirius," she said, purposefully folding the letter. "It was one of the few times since I lost her that I was happy." Althea sniffed as she stood. "I'm posting this letter," she said quietly as she stepped around him.

* * *

Sirius sat on the floor, the box at his side, and the photographs, drawings, and other mementos of Prudence were strewn around him. _Everyday I've caught him looking at her things_, she thought as she entered the sitting room. _He'll look at them for hours_. Without asking if he would be bothered by it, Althea turned on the television. She rarely watched television (she did so to keep up her Muggle persona), but she was informed a news program would feature her friends' redecorated home. _It's remarkable how Sophie transformed that south garden_, she thought as she sat on the comfortable sofa. _I couldn't believe George discovered the original eighteenth century designs inside an old writing desk in the attic_. Althea looked up at her ceiling. _I wonder what I'd discover if I lurked about this old attic_.

"Why Muggles?"

Althea lowered her head and looked at Sirius. His expression was hardened, and to Althea, he seemed to look through the photograph in his hand.

"What Wizarding family would want to raise our baby?"

Sirius slightly shook his head as he continued to stare at the photograph. "It's denying who she really is—"

"You never wanted any of your children to carry your last name anyway," she interrupted and noticed the program had begun.

"No," he corrected, looking up from the photograph, "she's not Muggle-born. It will be difficult for her…the names, the teasing, and do not tell me all has changed." Sirius's eyes returned to the photograph. "She shouldn't be put through that."

"You think there wouldn't be name-calling and teasing if she had stayed with me?" she asked with humorous disbelief.

Sirius was silent.

"Look, you're the prime example about the difficulties of overcoming the family, Sirius," she began to explain and frowned as the television segment about her friends started. "It was so easy for the public to believe those things because you were a Black."

Sirius's jaw tightened.

"I know it's awful, but it's true," she continued earnestly. "Our daughter is free to choose her own way without a name or a history holding her back…. I know that she's fiercely loyal. She would be fiercely loyal to you and would feel it necessary to defend you."

Sirius opened his mouth and inhaled a ragged breath.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, her eyes quickly flickering to the television screen to see Sophie's smiling face. Althea returned her gaze to Sirius—his face had softened. "Her constantly fighting through life? She doesn't have to fight."

"She's living a lie," he insisted solemnly.

"She's living the best possible life," she said pleadingly. "She is living the life I would imagine during my pregnancy as I spent those nights alone in the cottage." Althea looked to the screen—the segment was over—and closed her eyes. "She's thriving."

"She's living a lie."

Althea opened her eyes and sighed with slight desperation. "She's happy," she said and knelt next to him. Althea took the photograph of Althea and Prudence at Hogwarts into her hands and presented it to Sirius. "Look," she began, pointing to a smiling Prudence, "she's exceedingly happy. She has loads of friends. Do you think she'd have friends if others knew? You broke into Hogwarts, Sirius…imagine how frightened the children were."

"I didn't mean—"

"They don't know of Peter, or what it was like for us," she said and swallowed. "I might believe your innocence, but the rest of the Wizarding world doesn't."

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the photograph. Prudence winked. "Loads of friends?" he murmured, stroking Prudence's face.

"Loads," she repeated, leaning closer to better look at the photograph. "I wrote to them—the Parkers…they'll know you're innocent," she explained quietly, her eyes focused upon Sirius's profile. "Eventually, you will clear your name and she'll know the truth. She won't fear you—"

Sirius let out a quietly laugh of spite.

"She has this brilliant imagination. She'll turn you into some tragic hero, or something…which is more than she'll ever think of me," she added and scratched her right temple.

"No," he replied, looking up at Althea's eyes, "she thinks the world of you. I can tell."

"I don't want to get my hopes up," she said quietly and gently bit her bottom lip.

"One of us has to," he murmured and slowly returned his gaze to the photograph. "She belongs with you—"

"Don't please—"

"I've never made you that happy," he continued ruefully as the Althea in the photograph grinned at Prudence. "When my name is cleared…we'll right this."

Althea caught her breath as she looked into Sirius's eyes. She finally understood. _No one ever made me that happy_, she thought and took a shaky breath. _He truly believes that if he did this one thing—if he brought her back to me_….

Althea nodded. "We will."

Sirius's lips upturned into a small smile. "Right," he breathed.

Althea smiled slightly as he returned to attention to the photograph. She gently jerked her head forward—the urge to kiss Sirius, overwhelming, but caught herself doing so. _No, you promised yourself_, she thought, uncomfortable with herself and her weakness. _What good could come of it_? That urge would happen again—she was sure of it—but next time, would she be strong enough to fight it? Would she continue to fight it? Sirius smiled as his index finger tenderly stroked the photograph of Althea and Prudence. _He does love you_, she thought as she saw Sirius blink—small tears collected on his thick, black eyelashes. _He just doesn't love you enough_. Uneasy, she sat back and fiddled with the embroidery of her sundress.

"Would you tell me about this?" he asked, presenting her with a photograph.

Althea blinked as the photograph came into focus. "Oh," she replied, letting go of her hem, "it's her first bath. Well, the first bath I gave her."

Sirius watched as the young Althea kissed the top of Prudence's soapy head. "She's so soapy," he commented and laughed through his nose as the young Althea spat out soap bubbles.

"She was so slippery," she replied, feeling a bittersweet enjoyment at Sirius's interest. "I was so afraid I'd drop her."

"Wizarding babies do bounce," he teased and winked.

"Just Nymphadora," she replied and winked.

Sirius placed the photograph in the box and thoughtfully looked at Althea. "Have you spoken with them…Andromeda and Ted, I mean?"

"Oh no, I haven't," she answered and took a gulp of air. "I haven't spoken to them since..." Althea smiled uncomfortably. "It's been a long time," she finished and took a piece of paper from the box. "Remarkable likeness, don't you think?" she asked, handing him the piece of paper.

Sirius bark-like laugh echoed throughout the sitting room. "Aqua _would_bring out the yellowness of his teeth," he replied, grinning. "I thought so as he had his wand pointed at my head…. She drew this, then?"

"Of course," she replied proudly, watching as Snape, in a green polka dot dress twirled in front of a mirror. "She almost received detention for it."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

Althea sighed and outstretched her arms. "I might've insinuated that an _older_student had sketched the lovely drawing," she explained, scratching the back of her head, "and she happened to find it on the Potions room floor."

Sirius threw his head back in laughter.

"He was _furious_," she added, smiling.

"I reckon so."

"It was so worth it," she remarked as Snape pouted in the drawing.

Sirius let out a laugh of surprise as he looked at Althea.

"What?" she asked, sitting up straight. "I would never let him bully her. He is awful to those children…just awful."

Sirius sighed and looked at her appreciatively. Althea hurriedly shifted her gaze to the television. _Admit it_, she thought as the program highlighted another garden, _you're enjoying this conversation. You enjoy talking with him. You enjoy being with him. You—you can't, Althea. He'll hurt you again or you him. It'll never be perfect…or normal_.

"Would you have dinner with me, tonight?"

Althea returned her gaze to Sirius. "What?"

"Dinner with me, tonight?" he repeated and tilted his head from side to side. "As friends?"

Althea shook her head. "I really don't—"

"It'll be better than eating alone."

"It's not that—"

Sirius sighed. "We shouldn't argue," he said and placed the drawing before him. "I don't have many friends—"

Althea arched an eyebrow. "You thought me—"

"As friends," he insisted, leaning closer to her. "I reckon it's a start."

"Of what?"

Sirius shrugged.

"Sirius, I don't—"

"I'll cook," he offered eagerly, quickly raising and lowering his eyebrows.

"Oh, you'll cook," she replied awkwardly.

Feeling her cheeks blush a little, Althea shyly looked at her skirt. _Oh, why do I feel as though I'm fifteen_, she thought, feeling the heat travel from her neck to her shoulders. _He'll see—what do I mean, 'he'll see?' He sees_!

"Yeah, why not?" he asked, tugging at her skirt. "You enjoy my breakfasts."

Althea took the hem of her skirt from him. "Have you ever…?"

"Cooked a dinner? Yeah," he replied, "it 's been awhile, but I have. Don't you remember?"

Althea smiled weakly. _I do_, she thought, smoothing her skirt. _It was after an awful day at St. Mungo's. I was so exhausted. I was a Midwife…but all able Healers. You'd surprised me with dinner. What a mess you made…but it was good…and I was grateful. You really tried then_.

"Come on," he encouraged, "it'll be fun."

"Fun?" she mouthed, staring at the embroidery of her skirt.

Sirius raised her chin with his index finger and thumb. Her skin tingled at the touch of his smooth fingertips. "Afraid you might enjoy it?"

Althea removed his hand and reluctantly looked into his eyes. "No."

Sirius smiled mischievously. "Don't be a coward, Morrigan, say yes," he teased and winked.

Althea laughed uncomfortably as Sirius nodded with encouragement. The malleable feeling Sirius could produce in her had returned—how she loathed that feeling!

"All right, I will."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

******Chapter 13**

"Oh, brilliant," Althea muttered and frowned as she examined herself in the hall mirror, "just brilliant." She adjusted her halter-top, smoothed out her skirt, and sighed—she was having second thoughts on her chosen black dress. "I might as well strut about naked," she remarked and turned her head to look at her bare back in the mirror. "I look so bloody eager."

Forcing a weak smile, she walked toward the kitchen—her stomach growling at the delicious smells filling her nostrils. _I don't believe it_, she thought and let out a laugh of surprise. In the sink, soapy water filled to the brim, and charmed brushes scoured pots and pans. _When did he learn Cleaning Charms_?

"Thea, is that you?" Sirius asked loudly from the pantry.

"Yes, but it's _Althea_," she replied as the activity in the sink still held her attention.

"Yeah, Althea. That's what I said," Sirius replied and he swore unintelligibly as Althea heard a loud _bang!_"Right—er—I'll meet you in the dining room."

Althea's smile faded. "The dining room?" she asked lightly.

"Er—yeah," he answered and there was another loud _bang!_"Bloody hell!"

Althea cringed. "Would you like some help?"

"No, no, I'm fine," he answered and there was a loud _thump!_. "What the—"

Althea heard a loud _thud_ and vowed she would not clean the mess in her pantry. _What is he doing_, she asked herself, raising an eyebrow as she took a step forward.

"Of all the—"

"Right," she breathed as Sirius continued to swear. "I'll go to the dining room."

_The dining room_, she questioned as she exited the kitchen—a growing queasiness enveloped her stomach. _I thought it would be a simple dinner, but now…. Oh dear, nothing is ever simple with Sirius. I should've remembered that_.

Inhaling a deep breath, she entered the dining room. "Oh, bloody hell," she murmured uneasily as she looked upon the dimly lit room.

Althea blinked her eyes in an attempt to adjust to the soft candlelight. _He's trying_, she thought as she slowly looked around the dining room. Small yellow flames flickered from the long, tapered ivory candles in candelabras positioned about the room. She never used the candles (and she believed the candelabras had not been used since the nineteenth century), but the warm glow was comforting and a pleasant contrast to the dark woods of the furniture. Her eyes traveled from the lighted candles to the two neatly arranged place settings at the far end of the table.

Sirius, carrying a bottle of wine, entered through the servants' door and stopped at the far end of the table. The corner of his mouth upturned into a smile as he looked upon Althea—she never felt more self-conscious. Not taking his eyes off her, he placed the bottle between the two place settings. He too had improved his appearance (although Althea would never admit to doing so); his clothes were new and unwrinkled, hair was clean and combed, and his face shaven.

"You look…" he paused, consciously searching for a inoffensive word, "lovely."

Althea's lips quivered into a small smile. "Thank you," she said, and slowly glided her fingertips over the smooth, cool tabletop. "It's very…are the candles necessary?"

"I missed the glow of candlelight and gas lamps," he answered thoughtfully. "Electrikaty could be so cold and impersonal."

"Electricity," she corrected.

"Yeah, electricity."

Althea smiled slightly. "You said, 'electrikaty.'"

"Did I?" he asked, bemused, and raised an eyebrow.

Althea nodded.

Sirius let out a small laugh. "Oh, well, it's been so long, you know," he replied and pulled out Althea's chair. "Here," he continued and offered Althea a seat.

"Thank you," she said quietly as Sirius uncorked the bottle of wine. "Oh no, no," she continued, holding her hand over her glass. "I really shouldn't."

Sirius held the bottle in his hands. "You love wine," he stated and looked at the aged label on the bottle.

"Not particularly," she replied and saw Sirius frown. "Well, not anymore at least. I've given up drink for the most part…. You're right, though, I used to love it."

"Right," he muttered, seeming to make a mental note.

"But," she began and licked her lips, "I could use a glass."

As Sirius finished pouring his glass he spoke, "I reckon I should serve the first course."

"First course?"

"Yeah," he breathed, with a proud smile. "First course."

Althea smiled with surprise. "Well then," she began, placing the napkin in her lap, "I'd like to try the first course."

As soon as Sirius left, Althea slid in her chair and sighed. _Candles, courses…oh bloody hell_, she thought, the uneasiness of the situation was overwhelming. _He's lonely, Althea…very lonely…. It'll be back and forth with him. At every new discovery, he will either love or hate you_. With the sound of Sirius's footsteps returning to the dining room, Althea straightened herself in her chair. _Just—he needs another friend more than anything_.

"Enjoy," he said, placing the small salad plate in front of her.

Althea touched her fork to the lettuce. "Did you raid my garden?" she teased as she picked up the dark red and green leaves with her fork. She brought the leaves to her lips and smiled before she tasted them. "This is very good, actually," she commented, picking up more lettuce with her fork.

"Really?" he asked and took a bite of his salad. He nodded in approval.

Althea swallowed. "Yes, very good," she answered and laughed quietly. "I can taste the citrus…. Where did you learn to make this?"

"_Enchanted Entrees_," he replied and Althea covered her mouth as she laughed. "What?"

She let her hand fall to her lap. "Afina gave me that last Christmas," she explained, picking up her fork. "We attempted to cook from it. It was disastrous. We were banned from the kitchens at Northfield."

"That awful?" he remarked and took another bite of salad.

"Terrible," she replied, looking at the colorful and delicious salad.

"What did you cook?"

"Oh, I don't remember exactly," she said, pushing lettuce around her plate with her fork. "I believe it was some salmon dish. It was ghastly."

"Oh," Sirius said, disappointed. "I reckon we should eat dessert, then."

Althea looked to Sirius, who was frowning. "You cooked that, didn't you?" she asked and Sirius nodded slightly. "Don't worry, the kitchen is intact and smoke isn't billowing out of it. Yours is a definite success compared to ours."

Sirius pushed the lettuce around his plate. "You're a brilliant cook, though."

Althea laughed nervously. "Thank you, but I haven't cooked in ages."

"You've cooked for yourself."

"For a man…" she replied awkwardly, quickly looking to her half-eaten salad, "or anyone, for that matter."

Althea roughly stabbed pieces of lettuce and shoved them into her mouth. Forcing a steady gaze at the shadows flickering across the top of her plate, she heavily swallowed the chewed pieces in an attempt to suppress her own feelings of loneliness. Once, she had enjoyed hosting intimate gatherings among friends—long evenings filled with entertainment, laughter, and delicious meals—but as Althea embraced her hollow shell, the perceived phoniness of the evenings outweighed all pleasure.

"Oh," he murmured and cleared his throat. "Right, I have something I'd like to give you."

Althea looked to Sirius and shook her head. "Oh really, it's not necessary. Let's just enjoy this—"

"Please," he interrupted, taking a box from his trouser pocket. "Just open it," he encouraged, handing her the box.

Althea's fingers caressed the small velvet box—her stomach immediately turning sour. _Sirius, what have you done_, she thought, inhaling a shaky breath. She slowly opened the box—her body wincing as the hinges of the box creaked.

"No," she murmured.

A simple diamond pendant—its delicate woven chain, no doubt, goblin-wrought—rested against the indigo velvet interior. Her hand trembled, the diamond catching the candlelight. She looked to Sirius, who smiled.

"I—I can't wear this," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows and closing the box. "I'm sorry."

Althea placed the box on the table and shyly pushed it toward him. Sirius looked from the box to Althea and shook his head.

"Yes, you can," he replied, taking the box in his hands. "Think of it as a birthday gift."

Althea anxiously rubbed her upper arms. "My birthday is more than a month away."

"An _early_birthday gift," he corrected and winked—Althea did not smile. "You deserve beautiful things," he said—his stare further unnerved her. Looking from Althea to the necklace, he frowned with concern. "Is it too small?"

"No, no," she answered, clasping her hands in her lap. "It's—it's perfect," she whispered and gently bit her bottom lip.

Sirius smiled warmly. "I found it with my spare wands," he explained, taking the necklace from the box. Althea watched as he dangled the necklace before her—the diamond sparkling in the candlelight. "I've had it for years. I meant it as a gift on Prudence's birth," he explained his voice bearing a touch of sadness. He sighed and forced himself to smile. "Please," he continued, unclasping the necklace, "I'd love for you to wear it."

Althea shook her head. "Sirius, I—"

"Please," he interrupted, standing, "I would love to see this on you."

"Sirius," she murmured in feeble protest.

She straightened herself as she felt Sirius behind her. "May I?" he asked and Althea weakly nodded.

Althea closed her eyes as he swept her hair off her neck. Slowly, he let the necklace fall against her skin—the cool delicate metal heightening her uncomfortable excitement, as he stood so close.

"There," he murmured, sweeping Althea's hair back to its previous position—Althea released a shaky breath and opened her eyes. He returned to his chair and smiled as he looked upon Althea. "Beautiful."

Althea nervously slouched and rolled her shoulders forward—conscious of the enormous weight draped around her neck. She did not dare touch it, or did she look at it. _He meant it for Prudence's birth_, she thought—a small crease appeared between her eyebrows. _What does this gift mean now_? Sirius, pleased with himself, leaned back—his chair on its hind legs.

"Are you finished?" he asked, leaning forward.

Althea nodded. "Yes, I believe so," she answered quietly, straightening herself as Sirius stood.

As Sirius was about to take her plate, he hesitated and Althea caught her breath. _Please, don't_, she thought, remaining rigid. _I don't want to push you away_. Sirius took her plate, smiled, and walked toward the servant's door. Althea exhaled.

"What else does he have planned?" she whispered, watching a molten drop of candle wax slowly cascade down the long candle. "And can you have the courage to say no?"

Sirius—smiling—returned and placed the questionable salmon dish before her. _It looks edible_, she thought, attempting not to giggle at the thought-out garnish. _A garnish? He took the time to prepare a garnish…unreal. I reckon dessert is some sort of flambé_.

"Unfortunately," he began and sat, "the dessert's a soupy mess. This is it, love."

Althea picked up her fork and poked the salmon. "It looks lovely," she replied and picked up her knife. "Ours was almost unrecognizable," she continued and cut a small piece. "No, this will be good."

Sirius did not lift his fork and knife. Instead, he leaned forward and anxiously observed her as she placed the small piece of salmon into her mouth. Althea smiled faintly.

"How is it?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

Althea's smile faded as she allowed herself to taste the overcooked and heavily seasoned salmon. _Oh, this is right awful_, she thought, unable to muster an encouraging and sympathetic smile.

After choking down the piece of salmon she asked, "You followed the recipe?"

"Well, yeah," he answered, examining his plate of salmon.

Althea placed her utensils on her plate—she wouldn't force herself to eat anymore. "The recipe…" she began, but refused to utter anything harsh.

Sirius took a bite and immediately pulled a face. "Oh, this is awful," he remarked, sliding his plate away from him. "Why didn't you say so?"

Althea shrugged.

Sirius frowned as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I hadn't cooked a proper dinner in years," he explained—his expression a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment. "I'm—"

"It's all right," she said soothingly, placing her hand on his forearm. "Stay with breakfasts, then."

"You enjoy my breakfasts?" he asked, his eagerness apparent.

"Well…yes," she replied and retracted her hand, realizing the tenderness of her gesture. "They're better than cold cereal or nasty porridge," she added—her voice awkward and unnatural.

Althea caught her breath as Sirius clasped her hand. "I would never subject you to porridge," he pledged, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "Never."

"Right," she breathed and took in a deep gulp of air. "I enjoyed the salad."

"It's about the only course we could enjoy," he replied, lifting her hand off the table. "It's a right awful book, love," he remarked, gently bending and extending her fingers.

"Afina's never been much of a cook," she replied as Sirius's fingers slid and interlocked with hers. She glanced to the clasped hands—she had forgotten how small her hands felt in his. "No motor oil."

"What?"

Althea nodded toward their clasped hands.

Sirius briefly lifted his fingers to look at them. "Right," he said and chuckled quietly.

Uncomfortable with her careless observation, Althea continued, "Yes, well, Afina's never been much of a cook. She hasn't learnt with the cooks and all."

"Oh," Sirius murmured. He furrowed his eyebrows and brought his other hand to their clasped hands. "Where did you learn, then?"

"Well, first, from Marie," she explained, focusing her concentration on her words, but discovering it difficult to do so. "Then, from Mrs. Evans," she continued and sighed sadly.

_Lily thought it so strange that I would take such pleasure in suburban life_, she thought, frowning. _I was just Althea and I hadn't been that since_—

"It reminded me of the few memories I had with my mother," she said—aware of the growing lump in her throat. Althea pulled her hand away and placed it in her lap. "I reckon I'd like to take a walk…if you don't mind."

Sirius leaned back in his chair. "No, no, go ahead," he replied and sighed ruefully. "I have a bit of cleaning up."

Althea hurriedly left the house and started down the path that led to her favorite part of the beach. She picked up her black heels and swung them at her side, as she walked along the shore. She dug her toes into the sand—it not yet cooled by the evening atmosphere—some of the rough, fine grains adhering to her feet. She looked up to the encroaching night sky—to the stars that started to twinkle through—and sighed.

"All that needs to be mentioned is my father, and revisiting the emotional wreck that is my life will be complete," she whispered, lowering her head as to look out to sea. "All in one bloody day, too."

Althea heard the muffled footsteps to her left and did not bother to turn her head to acknowledge them.

"It's such a beautiful evening," Sirius explained as Althea watched a wave gently roll to shore. "I couldn't spend it inside…. Althea, I've made an awful mess of things—"

"No," she interrupted, refusing to look at him. "Dinner was lovely and it was very thoughtful."

"No," he insisted, "your relationship with Remus."

Althea realized her brief walk had ended. Why would he mention that now?

"What relationship?" she remarked, turning her face to look at him.

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like to sit?" she asked as she lowered herself onto the warm sand.

Sirius nodded. "So, you _didn't_have a relationship?" he asked as he sat next to her. "But I thought…."

"I thought so, too…at one time," she replied, pulling her knees to her chest. "But we were never _meant_for a romantic relationship…. He's too bloody frustrating."

"He is," Sirius laughed quietly. "I'd forgotten how much so."

Althea rested her cheek on her knees as she studied him. "I can't believe you're okay with that," she said as Sirius pulled his knees to his chest.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked and shrugged.

"The last time—"

"I was an idiot," he finished, resting the side of his face against his knees. "The war changed everything…I realized what was important."

The nape of Althea's neck warmed. "Anyway, we couldn't continue. Remus couldn't endanger the lives of children," she explained, brushing away the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes, "_and_it would've been a scandal."

Sirius lifted his head as he let out a small chuckle. "You didn't believe that, did you?"

"Of course not," she replied, lifting her head and looking out to sea—her lips curving into a smile. "He didn't want to incur your wrath."

Sirius's bark-like laugh startled Althea. "And the murderous madman is a better choice?" he asked and shook his head. "That'll look bloody brilliant."

"Indeed," she laughed.

"I mean, if he was such a danger," he began to ask, motioning with his hand for emphasis, "why did he take the job in the first place?"

"Excellent point," she agreed, resting her hands behind her. "Ask him…although, he'll only tell you that you can't possibly understand because you aren't a werewolf."

"He still uses that?"

"Repeatedly."

Sirius messed the back of his hair. "He is frustrating," he sneered.

Althea smiled, as did Sirius.

"Right," he breathed.

Althea inhaled a deep gulp of air as she recognized Sirius's hopeful expression. She abruptly shifted her gaze out to sea as he reclined next to her. _Why am I fighting_, she wondered as a warm evening breeze caressed her skin. Closing her eyes, she listened as the waves receded along what seemed to be thousands of tiny shells.

She felt Sirius turn onto his side. "Moony told me," he began slowly, "that flowers, and love letters, and candlelight wouldn't work anymore."

"That's because Moony can't afford them," she replied and opened her eyes.

Sirius laughed with surprise.

"He can't afford to use up the parchment or ink," she explained, smiling wryly, "or waste candles."

"Remember his allergies," Sirius added, gently smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear. "A runny nose isn't very romantic…not even for a Healer."

Althea did not force him away as his hand lingered for a moment against her cheek.

"Is he right, though?"

"About the love letters and such?" she asked quietly.

Sirius nodded.

Althea thought a moment before responding with, "Somewhat."

"How so?" he asked, his fingertips leisurely gliding up and down her upper arm.

"It takes more than _just_those things," she answered, looking at the small space of sand between them. "A woman must feel as if she matters…as if she only matters."

Sirius lifted her chin with his forefinger and thumb. "You do matter," he murmured. "You always have."

Althea's head jerked forward, but she caught herself doing so. No, she would not break her promise. Althea gently pulled away, and Sirius—frustrated—inhaled a large breath through his nostrils. _Look what you've done_, she thought as Sirius's face registered hurt and confusion. _You've let it continue too long_.

"Please," she demanded weakly, "stop it."

Sirius smoothed the hair from his face and let his hand fall heavily against his thigh. "What?" he asked, his voice upset. "I don't—"

"This," she said, staring at her folded hands in her lap, "this entire night."

"Why d'you agree to it, Althea?"

Althea remained quiet.

"Why did you agree to it?" he demanded.

Althea shook her head as she stood. "I don't know," she replied, refusing to look at him.

"Don't lie to me," he said heatedly as he stood. "Why?"

Althea did not answer as she started to walk away. How she hated sand at this moment! It was unstable and one could never walk off determined without looking ridiculous. _I should be laughing at the absurdity of this_, she thought, holding her arms out somewhat away from her for balance.

"Why d'you agree to dinner?" he asked as he caught up to her. "I deserve a bloody answer!"

"Please," she begged, walking quickly, "just—just leave me alone!"

"No," he replied and Althea groaned. "What do you want, Althea?"

"I want to return to my home," she answered, concentrating on how her bare feet sank into the sand. "Now—"

"_No_," he insisted. "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave me alone."

"No, you don't."

Anger erupted at Sirius's confident and knowing reply. "How do you know what I want?" she accused shortly. "You never gave me a chance to decide what I want!"

"Decide now."

"Stop being such a an idiot."

"You want what we had, Althea," he replied, grabbing her upper arm. "Admit it!"

"Just—just leave me alone!" she demanded and fiercely pulled her arm away from him. Althea quickened her pace.

"No," he insisted and Althea inhaled a deep breath. "What do you want, Althea? Tell me now."

Althea stopped and roughly rubbed her forehead. She turned to face him. "It's what you want," she admitted and felt a nervous burst in her stomach, "but we can't."

"Yes—"

"We _can't_, Sirius," she insisted, her hands beginning to tremble. "Please, let me go," she begged—her voice wavering. Her head bent, she continued on the path toward her home without Sirius at her side.

"Althea, listen to me," Sirius called after her. "I love you."

Althea stumbled, but continued to walk. _And that makes everything all right, doesn't it_, she thought as she, barefoot, gingerly walked along the gravel path. _Forget the names, the accusations—Prudence will always be over our heads_—

"Althea—"

"Stop!" She turned to look at Sirius, who had stopped where the path and beach met. "You don't—"

"Don't tell me—"

"It'll change—it will always change," she said and massaged her temple. "I'll never be—back and forth—you don't want—"

"I do!" He laughed from frustration and pulled at his hair. "I want you!"

"Now," she replied, allowing her hand to fall and slap her thigh, "but you'll discover more and what then?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "What could be worse than keeping the truth of Prudence from me?"

Althea shook her head and continued on her way as Sirius growled and ranted about Althea's insufferable behavior.

"Plenty," she murmured, walking toward her home. **  
**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter 14**

The pendant, carried by its weight, slowly slipped into the hollow of her collarbone as Althea lay across her bed—her arms at her sides, the muscles of her limbs unwilling to move. Her mouth curved into severe frown as she stared at the ceiling, recounting the night's events and her stupidity for allowing it to continue until the encounter on the beach. _He was so wonderful this evening. How long had he spent preparing dinner? Right, the majority of it was inedible, but still, he tried…tried for you_, she thought and closed her eyes. The image of Sirius—clean-shaven and smiling at the sight of her—entered her mind. Inhaling a slow breath through her nostrils, she could almost smell his soap—a curious feeling of safety and comfort enveloped her. Althea quickly opened her eyes and chided herself for being ridiculous. _He did try, though. This entire time—the flowers, the letters, and tonight…a dinner date? When was the last time you had a proper date_? Althea raised an eyebrow as she attempted to remember. It had been at least a year. _He loves you. After everything, after all these years, after knowing…he loves you_.

"I'm the only woman that will bloody talk to him," she remarked aloud and narrowed her eyes slightly. "He hasn't seen a proper pair of tits in ages."

_Still_...

"He doesn't know everything," she murmured and clenched her hands into weak fists.

Althea's stomach instinctively convulsed as she thought of her life after Prudence's adoption. Sirius knew of her time as a Relief Healer in Romania and Afina's arrival into Althea's life; however, the other details of her life were deliberately ambiguous. When asked, she would tell, or at least try to tell, but—to Althea (and with Remus' insistence)—Sirius did not need to know _everything_. _He'll learn eventually_, she thought, placing her hand over her abdomen, _somehow, he'll learn_. She remembered the look of betrayal upon Sirius's face, as he understood that Prudence was alive and was not his. Would he give her that same look upon hearing the truth? Althea took a deep gulp, as she knew it was so, but she had to tell him. What had she to lose? They were not together, and if she succumbed to a relationship, the fallout from the believed lies would be insurmountable. She had to tell him.

Althea stood from her bed and walked to her nightstand. Opening the drawer, she grasped her wand and placed it in the disguised pocket of her skirt. As she turned to walk toward the door, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused. Her gaze fell upon the beautiful necklace around her neck—the diamond's sparkle seemingly emphasized in the moonlight. She blinked rapidly as she thought—for a brief moment—she looked different, younger. Had she briefly witnessed Sirius's vision of herself? Althea shook her head at the absurd notion and insisted that the light had played tricks with her eyes. _The light in this house can be very strange_, she thought, sweeping the hair away from her face with an exaggerated movement. _Very strange, indeed_. As she lowered her hand, it hesitated at the necklace—her fingers curled to touch the diamond pendant, but she stopped herself from doing so. She did not dare touch the necklace—she felt unworthy to touch such a pure memory…the last reminder of his Althea. She let her hand fall to her side.

"You will change in his mind forever," she whispered and turned her gaze away from her reflection.

Inhaling a deep breath, she opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Slowly, anxiously, she exhaled as her eyes scanned her empty, dimly lit surroundings—Sirius was still outside. Patting her wand pocket, she walked forward toward the staircase and, in her mind, she attempted to prepare for the upcoming conversation. _Where could I begin for him understand the things I have done? Should I begin the night I was tortured? No, no, it wouldn't explain Oswin. The day of the book signing, then? She killed my father—he must remember that night I learnt of his death…that odious letter…the _Daily Prophet_._ _Yes, I'll start there…with my father_. Suddenly, a door slammed shut—her heart skipped—and she listened to Sirius's deliberate footsteps across the wooden floor below. Althea stopped at the top of the staircase and grasped for the railing—her eyes locked on Sirius as he walked across the entrance hall. Sirius paused at the bottom of the staircase, looked up, and sighed with frustration. Althea caught her breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came from her tightened throat.

"Right," Sirius said and bit the inside of his cheek. He shook his head and walked toward her father's study.

Althea felt a sudden queasiness and lightly massaged her stomach with a sweaty hand. _Why tell him? Just apologize and try to salvage some enjoyment in the evening. Honestly, what good will come of telling him_, she wondered as she descended the staircase. Indeed, what good would come of telling Sirius? There was not a true threat of him discovering the truth about her life as Derry. She reckoned that Sirius would have eventually discovered the truth of Prudence's existence—as the years would pass, it would have been difficult to hide her existence. _No_, she thought, walking toward her father's study, _he'll discover it. If I tell him, I could help him. I understand Azkaban…the despair…that irrational anger that consumed me. Caged and subhuman—left to die, to be forgotten, to be nothing_. Althea paused before she entered her father's study. Closing her eyes, she summoned her nerve. _You understand Azkaban. You can help him_.

Althea opened her eyes and stepped forward into her father's study. The room was rather dark, except for the single gas lamp illuminating the end table beside the sofa, which illuminated Sirius' gaunt profile. Sirius sat on the sofa, his expression grim, his gaze unfocused and looking ahead of him.

"I thought you didn't drink," he remarked, stroking his glass of brandy.

"I don't," she replied, stepping closer to the sofa. "Ugh, I wouldn't drink that. I reckon that brandy is as old as I am…or older."

Sirius lifted the glass to his lips. "I thought I knew you," he replied, and took a sip of brandy—he quickly pulled a face.

"Please, don't drink that," she implored, stepping forward to retrieve the glass from him.

Sirius defiantly downed the glass. "I thought I knew you," he repeated hoarsely, stroking the side of the glass with his thumb. "I reckon I'm a fool."

"You're not a fool," she replied and sat next to him. "I've changed…greatly."

Sirius rolled his eyes as he placed the glass on the end table. "Right," he remarked and turned toward her. He eyed her for a moment before speaking, "You look as if you have something to tell me. What are you about to tell me now? Prudence is really Moony's? Oh, how about Alexander Star's? No, that's not it…. You had an affair with that loathsome Pettigrew all those years ago? At that Christmas party?" He mockingly rubbed his chin as if deep in thought and sprang forward, pleased with himself at his deduction. "Oh, I know, you shagged my brother—"

"Be reasonable, Sirius," she interrupted, noticing her mouth was unnaturally dry.

"What," he began, looking into her eyes, "could be more shocking than lying about Prudence?"

Althea bit her lip as his eyes narrowed. "Do you still love me?" she asked and inhaled a shaky breath.

Sirius shifted—visibly annoyed. "Yes, I love you. How much—"

Althea leaned forward. "You still love me after knowing what I kept from you?"

Sirius nodded. "I reckon I'll never understand _lying _to me. I should be used to it by now—you're a notorious liar—"

"_How_ can you still love me after twelve years in Azkaban?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like I could move on, could I? Azkaban isn't favorable for dating, but I didn't lovingly think of you every night as the dementors glided past my cell…. No," he explained, looking to his hands, "it wasn't until I left that—"

"All those feelings returned in a single moment."

A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. "Yes—yes they did." He looked to the worn box on the coffee table. "That box…you kept everything," he said, obviously eager to change the subject.

"Of course," she replied, noticing that the right upper corner of the box needed mending. "I love her…I wanted her. I curse myself everyday for letting her go. My life…"she explained and frowned, "wouldn't have been so empty."

He took a photograph from his pocket. "When was this taken?" he asked, showing her the photograph.

Althea peered at the photograph. "About an hour after her birth," she answered as the younger version of herself kissed Prudence's forehead. "I wouldn't let go of her."

Sirius caressed the side of the photograph. "You look so beautiful."

"I look exhausted."

"No, look," he said, pointing to the young Althea as she gazed at Prudence. The young Althea smiled. "There."

Althea frowned slightly. "Oh," she murmured, unaware of what Sirius saw in the photograph.

"We'll get her back," he replied, looking into her eyes. "I promise you. "

Althea bit her lip. _Please, don't make promises you can't keep_, she thought—her stomach queasy.

Sirius slipped the photograph into his pocket and returned his gaze to her. He let out a quiet, mournful sigh. "What could be so horrible, Althea?" he wondered, his eyes scanning her face.

Now was the time. Furrowing her eyebrows, she took a deep breath. "Do you remember that night our fifth year? That night I learnt of my father's death?"

Sirius nodded. "How could I forget?" he replied, the look of revulsion visible. "A letter."

"Yes," she continued, looking to her hands in her lap, "and I inherited my father's things—more specifically—his journals."

Sirius frowned. "Althea, what does this—"

"Please, just listen," she said, holding up her hand for him to quiet. "At first, I thought it would be too painful for me to read his journals, but I realized they brought me comfort—as if he were still alive…and not just a memory," she explained and inhaled a shallow breath.

Althea stood and unlocked the cabinet next to the window. It had been some time since she held her father's last journal in her hands. She wiped a thin film of grey dust off the leather cover and carefully opened the worn journal to the important entry. _If he reads those words, he will understand why I had to kill her_, she thought, her index finger stroking her father's handwriting. _He must remember that he hid those _Daily Prophets_ to prevent me from learning my father was blown up—he will understand_.

Sirius eyes followed Althea as she sat next to him. "After I returned from Romania, I discovered his last journal," she said, handing him the journal. "And in it, he disclosed who betrayed him—who murdered him."

"Pulcheria Oswin," he replied with disgust.

"Yes."

Althea intently watched as Sirius's eyes scanned the page—his jaw tightening and his nostrils slightly flaring. He roughly flipped the page and clenched the journal tighter as Althea knew he read of her father's betrayal. When he was finished, Sirius looked up from the journal and slowly closed it. His eyes met hers and in them—briefly—she saw a solemn knowing.

"You killed her," he said and the tone of his voice surprised Althea. It was neither harsh nor accusatory. It was rather _calm_.

Althea slowly nodded—still in shock at Sirius's lack of overblown response. "I murdered her," she replied hoarsely, and painfully swallowed—her throat very dry.

Sirius placed the journal between them. "Was this secret—avenging your father's murder—what was keeping you from me?"

_Partly_, she thought, nodding.

Sirius let out a laugh of frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. "You had every right to kill her! Bloody hell," he said, leaning forward. "She betrayed your father. I remember you on that night, Althea," he continued and placed his hand against her cheek. "When I read in the _Prophet_ how your father died—"

"You devised a plan to keep me from discovering," she finished, removing his hand from her cheek. "I know."

Sirius disregarded her interruption, "I was determined to capture the Death Eaters that murdered him."

"You were just a boy—"

"It didn't matter," he said earnestly. "I had to find them."

Althea frowned. "They _were_ captured," she replied, puzzled. "All but Oswin."

Sirius shook his head. "Not true, one escaped capture," he said and Althea's eyes widened. "I reckon you were about four months pregnant when I received the information on the Death Eater's whereabouts. Luckily, I didn't have to search him out—he confronted me during a battle—"

"And you blew him up."

Sirius, open-mouthed, stared at Althea.

"Remus told me," she explained, smoothing out her skirt. "He was about to leave Voldemort's service."

Sirius shook his head. "No, no, that was the other one."

Althea raised an eyebrow. "Other one?" she asked with disbelief. "Right, you've blown up _two_ people?"

"Well, yeah," he answered, shrugging. "It was a war, you know."

Althea bit her bottom lip. _Yes_, she thought, _it was a war_. Sirius would understand—he did understand—she just had to explain the circumstances.

She slowly nodded in agreement.

"Look," he began, leaning back on the sofa and folding his arms, "I'm not proud of it."

"And I'm not proud either," she replied, looking to her hands in her lap. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm Kelly Derry."

Althea lifted her gaze to witness Sirius's reaction. Sirius's head jolted back and he knowingly shook his head. "You _can't_ be Kelly Derry."

"Yes, I—"

"Is this how far you'll go?" he asked, unfolding his arms. "Telling such outrageous lies? Look, _I_ knew her," he continued and pointed to his chest. "I knew that deranged harpy and—"

"I was in the cell to the right of you," she interrupted and Sirius stopped speaking—his mouth remained open. She anxiously wrung her hands together as she asked, "My first night in Azkaban, you told me not to think, don't you remember?"

Sirius closed his mouth.

"For if I thought, the dementors would suck out my soul," she continued, staring at her shaky hands. "I was so awful to you—tormenting you by pretending to be a ghost—but you helped me."

Sirius laughed through his nose and Althea abruptly looked at him. "You didn't torment me," he explained. "It was, after all, _Azkaban_."

"But—"

"I still heard you call out for me _after_ Derry's death," he interrupted, placing his hands over Althea's tightly clenched fists. "I heard you _before_ she arrived as well."

"You don't believe me."

Sirius remained quiet.

"I was so consumed with my hatred for you…. I would spend my days imagining ways to kill you. I even devised a plan to transform, slip into your cell, and stab you with that sharpened chair leg…but I couldn't transform. I had to settle stabbing you in the arm instead. "

"I told you that—"

"You didn't tell me what you did after. You must've saved a week's worth of porridge rations and lured me to the front of my cell," she countered and Sirius's face paled, jerking his hands away. "I still found porridge in my hair three days later."

Sirius shook his head. "I had to have told you that," he replied and looked toward the window. "You might've killed that Oswin woman, but you're _not_ Kelly Derry. _I knew her_."

"Gerry Goodwin," Althea replied, resolutely.

Sirius returned his gaze to her—his face registering surprise and horror. "How do you know about him?"

"How could I not?" she answered, furrowing her eyebrows. The room felt unnaturally cool and Althea shivered slightly. "We watched from our cells as the dementors sucked out his soul…I'll never forget it," she explained, noticing Sirius's hands slightly tremble. "I dreamt about him almost every night for a year after I left."

"It must've been in the papers."

"It wasn't, Sirius," she replied sadly. "We were forgotten in Azkaban."

"No," he countered, shaking his head. "Remus must have told you."

"Remus didn't tell me. _I was there_," she said with frustration. "You said that it was your second and for me to shut my eyes, to hide under my bed, to do anything—just not look."

_What more must I say to prove I'm Kelly Derry_, she wondered, rubbing her forehead.

Althea leaned forward and Sirius did not shrink away. "How could you believe I murdered Pulcheria Oswin, but not the others?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

Sirius's expression grew exceedingly dark. "She described for me, in detail, how she murdered them and—"

"Your murder would be my greatest accomplishment," she finished as Sirius clasped his trembling hands—his knuckles quickly turned white. "Right," she muttered and stood. "After this, you will bloody believe me." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius reach for his wand pocket. "Don't worry. I haven't got a knife on me. It's not that kind of demonstration."

Althea quickly strode across the study to the phonograph behind her father's desk. Opening the cabinet below, she hurriedly thumbed through the albums to find the unpleasant record. Locating the record, she felt a twinge of triumph in her stomach as she placed the forty-five on the turntable. She tapped the side of the phonograph with her wand and gently placed the needle against the vinyl. After the initial pop, and the obligatory crackles and hisses of the old vinyl, the study was filled with—as Althea knew—the most offensive sound to Sirius. _How many times did I hear him hum this song_, she wondered, watching the record's label hypnotically spin to music worthy of a supermarket. _It was the only song he would hum…or could. I didn't help_….She turned to face him.

He sat very still. The muscles of Sirius's hands started to tense, his jaw tightened, and his eyes were locked upon her. Althea began to sing.

"_Far have I traveled and much have I seen_," sang Althea as she picked up the hem of her skirt and started twirl—turning her head as not to lose her gaze at Sirius. "What's wrong? _Oh, mist rolling in from the sea_."

Sirius remained quiet—now his entire body was tense.

Althea danced closer to the sofa. "Something _is_ the matter, Sirius," she said and hummed the melody. "_Amplificare_," she added, pointing her wand toward the phonograph.

Sirius's eyes widened.

"How his music was ever banned by the BBC…I'll never know," she said, deciding it was a good time to take another spin. "I find this song rather _pleasant_, don't you?" Althea took another deep breath and continued to sing. "Rather mellow too…probably all that tofu—_Mull of Kintyre_—"

"_CONFLARE_!"

The phonograph exploded with a thunderous _boom!_ and Althea leapt to the floor—covering her head to avoid the molten vinyl and shards of metal that scattered around her. The thick, black, acrid smoke filled her lungs and burned her throat. She reluctantly blinked away the painful tears as Sirius stepped before her. Coughing, she slowly lifted her gaze from his sand-covered sandals up his legs and to his chest. His arm was outstretched and his hand did not waver—the tip of his wand within an inch of her nose. His face bore the feral expression of Azkaban. She was no longer _his _Althea. She was Derry.

* * *

**AN:** _Far have I traveled and much have I seen...__Oh, mist rolling in from the sea...__Mull of Kintyre_

'Mull of Kintyre' (McCartney)


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter 15**

"_Get up_." Sirius commanded through gritted teeth.

Althea hesitated.

"Get _UP_!"

With the utmost caution, Althea gradually lifted herself from the floor—her gaze steadfastly remained on Sirius—she believed he would not hesitate to murder her without further explanation. She carefully wiped the grey soot from her dress and frowned when she smeared the grainy, black filth along the length of her left arm. _It's over_, she thought with a curious sense of relief and bent to pick up her wand. _No more lies_. There was a flash of light and Althea quickly retracted her hand. She looked toward Sirius, who deftly caught her wand in his left hand.

"_Explain_." He thrust the tip of his wand at her chest. "_Now_."

"When the dementors escorted me past your cell, I heard you hum that awful song. I recognized you and I wanted to kill you—but you stayed just out of reach."

She doubted if Sirius listened to her hasty justification of playing that wretched song; he seemed to stare straight through her.

"I screamed for you too look at me, and you did. I wanted you to know it was me."

She glanced toward her wand in his hand—his grip had loosened.

"You absolutely loathed that song—I'd sing it at every opportunity…. You'd go into a rage, then."

Sirius's mad expression transformed into disbelief and repulsion. He lowered his wand arm. Althea slipped her hand into his and grasped her wand—Sirius did not resist.

"_Emergo_," she murmured, gently pressing the tip of her wand against her left upper arm.

Althea winced slightly at the uncomfortable prickling sensation in her skin. Slowly, the black ink emerged and bubbled—it windingly spread over her suntanned skin into the patterns created by Miriam. She had not worn the marks openly since Azkaban. During her recovery in Alexandria, and upon Sister Margaret's instruction, Althea had hidden the marks of her past self in an attempt to start anew—to overcome the desperation and to live fully once again. However, the marks given to her were still there, just below the surface—no Concealment Charm or Transfiguration Spell could truly hide them. They were an indelible part of her. Standing before him, she never felt so naked.

"Derry," he breathed—horrified—and inhaled shakily as he looked upon her tattoos.

"I received them in Romania, during my time as a Relief Healer," she began, allowing her fingertips to touch the tattooed skin. "From Miriam—she was the same woman who gave me this," she added and displayed her wrist to him.

Sirius did not look at her wrist.

"The one my father wrote about," she finished, retracting her wrist. She nervously massaged the small tattoo of a raven with her thumb.

"Yeah," he muttered distantly and massaged the side of his jaw. "I remember."

Sirius shook his head and walked toward the sofa. Without hesitation, he sat down—his face in his hands. His fingers were trembling.

"You understand, then?" she asked, reluctant to step toward the sofa. "That I'm Derry?"

Sirius nodded and muttered something Althea did not comprehend.

"I reckon you want to know why I—I did what I did."

Sirius made no reply.

Althea did not dare sit next to him. Instead, she slid the large armchair across from him and sat about three feet away. Sirius did not acknowledge her presence, nor did he look up at her. He remained motionless—except for the periodic breath. _He'll never touch me again_, she thought, looking to her hands in her lap. _I wouldn't blame him_.

She would be candid and unforgiving of her past. Sirius would learn everything for her lies and hidden truths had hurt him. It was not his forgiveness she sought at this moment; it was closure and freedom. She convinced herself that both looked to one another not out of abiding love, but out of abiding desperation. Indeed, what Wizarding folk would want either as a partner? Muggles were no better—even the most progressive were slightly fearful (although she pleaded in earnest they had nothing to fear).

She had only told the complete account of her life as Derry to one person—Sister Margaret. Not even Remus knew all the details—it seemed better that way—their friendship could survive in shades of deceit. Looking up from her hands, to Sirius's covered face, she could still imagine her hands covered with the warmth of Oswin's blood. She began her sordid tale at the Pulcheria Oswin book signing. She knew Sirius listened intently.

"When I learnt that she was the one that betrayed my father, I wanted justice for her crime. She was never mentioned by the Ministry as one of his murderers—they had assured me all were caught and in Azkaban," she explained and closed her eyes. "I read in the _Prophet_ of her book signing—I couldn't believe the Ministry would let this woman live in comfort while I lived a half-life…. I had to expose her for the evil bitch she was."

With each word tasting vile on her lips, she described the inflammatory conversation with Oswin that led Althea to murder. Was it an accident? Was it self-defense? She couldn't truly remember if Oswin had reached for her wand first. Nevertheless, she explained her severely flawed reasoning that if she committed this one act—the murder of Oswin—she would have righted all the wrongs that had occurred: her falling in love with Sirius, which led Lily to date and to fall in love with James, and their eventual deaths. Althea kept her eyes closed, ignoring any sound from Sirius, for she felt, if he interrupted her, she would not finish. She exposed to him, her descent into madness and justification of murder—it was nothing more than a public duty.

"Oswin was exposed in the paper to have lead to the deaths of countless people. An editorial in the _Prophet_ praised me as a heroine."

In unwavering detail, she recounted her subsequent adoption of Kelly Derry and the intoxicated slip into the underbelly of Wizarding Society. She was lost and broken. Althea was dead. A temporary savior, Madam White, of the Salisbury House took her in, and Althea accepted unknowingly Allegra's perverse redemption. She used Salisbury House to gather information about former Death Eaters, and discovered—to her horror—those that had tortured her and her unborn child were free.

"Phaedra Burke and Apollyon Hare…the pair that tortured me the night James and Lily died. They were pronounced innocent and never stood trial," she explained—small, residual rage licked at her insides.

"_What_?"

"Bought off the Ministry with a load of gold and the excuse of the Imperius Curse…specialized in murdering women and children," she continued, despite Sirius's violent epithets against the pair. "I wanted them to suffer. The Unforgivable Curses were too humane," she said and swallowed. "You know what I'd done to them. I'd told you…'the knife was more intimate than the cowardly and painless Killing Curse.'"

Althea thought she heard Sirius mutter, "Indeed."

"It wasn't long after that I was captured," she supposed and opened her eyes. She looked over at the smoldering pile of vinyl, wood, and metal. "I still don't understand why I had a trial. I never denied killing them." She frowned deeply. "In fact, I delighted in disclosing my reasons why…. I reckon my trial was for spectacle, really."

Althea returned her gaze to her hands and did not look up as she mentioned Azkaban. The coldness of that wretched prison, which seemed to seep into her bones returned—she shivered…as did Sirius.

"I've always wondered how you managed to survive for so long there," she said quietly.

Sirius remained silent.

"You were always so calm and that frightened me—it _truly_ frightened me…. I couldn't—I just couldn't stay there any longer. I didn't want to waste away or have my soul sucked out like the others. I wanted it on my terms," she continued, seemingly looking through her hands to where everything became a blur. "I decided I would hang myself…however, Dumbledore—"

"Dumbledore?"

She nodded. "Yes…it's very strange. He visited, gave me a vial of potion, and said that I'd seen worse than death…."

A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and deepened as she thought more about the motivations behind her escape. Why would Dumbledore help her? Why help her escape punishment when she boldly admitted her crimes, and showed no remorse, but…? Her stomach churned from guilt—Sirius. Sirius was the innocent one. _Gran_, she thought, forcing down the small amount of bile in her throat. _She was the motivation behind the plan to rescue me_. Althea remembered her conversation with Gran on the day she awoke in Alexandria:

_"Because I had to…. Just know I didn't want them to win…." _

Althea frowned. "All as a favor to Gran…guilt, I suppose," she continued, distracted by Gran's ambiguous reasons. "I woke up in Alexandria to recover…. I spent two years there before I returned to Hogwarts as professor."

She looked up slightly to observe Sirius somewhat perplexed.

"It was part of the agreement between Gran and Dumbledore, Sirius," she explained, feeling humiliated. "It is why I am the Muggle Studies professor…. I am in his debt."

Sirius inhaled a shaky breath. "You are in debt _to_ _no one_."

"Yes, I am," replied Althea. "If it weren't for Gran and—"

"_No_," Sirius said forcefully, placing his hands atop hers.

Althea quickly moved his hands away. "How—how can you still touch me?"

"Look, everyone has let you down, Althea," he said. "No one stood up for you. What did Gran do? Instead of helping you, she lectured you and told you what a horrible person you were—"

"She did help me—"

"I reckon she's never let you forget it, has she?"

Althea shook her head.

"Remus—"

"He resented me—"

"_What_?" Sirius's expression bore the utmost disbelief and anger. "How could he resent _you_?"

"I was a constant reminder to him of what happened," she answered, rubbing her upper arms. "I don't blame—"

"Oh, that's rich," Sirius remarked, leaning back and folding his arms. "The fucking hypocrite—"

"You don't understand—"

"Lecturing _me_?"

"We were lost, broken—"

"He should've—" Sirius slammed his fists against the sofa.

"Look, I could barely stand myself!" she shouted, quickly standing. "I had nothing when I lost Prudence! It didn't matter if I lived or died!" Althea, her eyes full of tears, reached behind her for the armchair and sat down. "No one wanted me…not even Gran…. I was nothing." She rubbed her forehead with her shaky hand. "Some thought I should've died, too."

Sirius gasped.

"Why should I be alive? James and Lily—" Althea sniffed. "I was barred from their funerals. Dumbledore thought it best if I didn't attend—didn't want _a scene_, perhaps…had to think of Harry…so I was expelled from his life," she said—the tears freely rolling down her cheeks. "The comments were unbearable. How could someone tell you that it was best that your daughter died?"

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "Someone said _that_?"

Althea nodded. "As if it were to comfort me," she said, roughly rubbing under her eyes with the palm of her hand. "You said it, as well. It was said so much that I began to believe it, too."

"Oh, God…I am so sorry, Althea—"

"_No_!" Her eyes widened in terror and she pressed her back firmly into the armchair. "No, I won't let you!"

"Let me?" His head jerked back slightly. "I let you down most of all!" he said in earnest and leaned forward. "I should've been there for you. I should've been there to keep all this from happening."

"You couldn't, Sirius, those were choices _I_ made."

"You wouldn't have made them if you had someone looking out for you," he said, looking into her eyes.

Althea's mouth partly opened in shock.

"They've shuffled you around for years," he explained—the muscles in his lower jaw tightening. "Took—no—_abducted_ Prudence and chucked you off to Relief Healing. Took everything from you and they expect you to be happy?"

_I don't believe this_, she thought as Sirius continued his tirade. _How could he not be upset with me? I made those horrific choices_….

"Nursemaided at Hogwarts in the guise of Muggle Studies professor—"

Althea straightened herself as she sat. _To hear it from someone else_, she thought as Sirius ranted about Althea's poor and illogical placement. _All those thoughts: the feeble Professor Morrigan that taught the useless Muggle Studies and not taken seriously by students and staff. I was a Healer and a Midwife…now the staff and students marvel that I can use a bloody wand_. Something stirred within Althea as she remembered the patronizing looks and the frequent slips of 'just Muggle Studies'. Hogwarts was not her sanctuary, but her prison. She had to be looked after in her new prison—not one of dementors—but of well-meaning adults that believed she was not safe in the outside world. She was to be forgotten once more in her safe and pleasant hideaway. Indeed, she could not cause trouble for she felt perpetually indebted to Dumbledore—just how it was supposed to be. Hogwarts was the reminder of what might have happened—her death in Azkaban—and she was never to forget it. She had not grown into full adulthood. She remained stunted in a self-pitying state—always reminded of the goodness of others and the inherent awfulness of herself. As she continued to listen to Sirius, no longer was she stooped over by guilt and humiliation, but felt—for the first time—gratitude. _Bloody hell, he—he understands_.

"Now our Prudence is at Hogwarts and that's your consolation prize—that pathetic box?" He ran his fingers through his hair and growled.

"What about Derry?"

"What about it?" Sirius released his hand from his hair and let it fall loudly upon his thigh. "You killed the bitch that betrayed your father and the bastards that tortured you!"

"I—I shouldn't have."

Sirius sighed heavily. "My God, love, I would've done worse! They would've prayed for their deaths!"

"I've done so many horrible things," she said quietly, refusing to look at his face. "Did you not listen?"

"Yes, of course, I listened," he answered. "You had every right, too. I don't need to forgive you because there is nothing to forgive."

"How could you say that?" she forced out—her throat painfully constricted. "I've deceived you—kept things hidden from you!"

"And I didn't?"

Althea lifted her face.

"If I had told you of the Secret Keeper plan—"

"You would never have told me it was Peter, Sirius," she interrupted. "It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. No one _believed me_—my testimony was in the dustbin. I was delusional. You've never had to undergo an Imperius Curse evaluation at St. Mungo's—"

"I understand, but—"

"Have you forgotten Prudence?"

"NONE OF THIS WOULD'VE HAPPENED IF I JUST TOLD YOU!"

Althea gasped. The room went silent—except for the clock that struck half past five. Sirius sat back and brought a shaky hand to his mouth—his eyes brightened with tears. Would it have happened? Would Althea have the strength from her knowledge in Sirius's innocence to overcome what she eventually faced? Would she—weary and defeated—have given up Prudence after running away? Would she have found unhealthy escape in drink and in poppy juice? Would she have murdered? Would his innocence have mattered? _No_, she thought,_ because I never mattered. I was a casualty that had to be looked after and nothing more. I didn't have the strength to fight anymore…even if I knew the truth_.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice sounded awkward and unnatural in the quiet room.

Sirius sniffed loudly. "I didn't want to burden you," he said and rubbed his eye. "I didn't want you to know how truly bad it was…. Love, we had lost."

"You did it to protect me?"

Sirius nodded.

"Just as I tried to protect you?" She sat forward—her leg against his. "I thought you deserved some happiness after twelve damn years because _I _knew what it was like there. I didn't want to hurt you because—"

"You love me like I love you."

Althea halted her speech. The defenses of her rationalization slowly slipped away. She sank back in the chair. She did not want to hurt Sirius? _Of course, I didn't want to hurt you! But_…. Althea's tired eyes looked up toward the ceiling. She allowed her eyes to drift and follow the intricate pattern of the molding. _I didn't want to change for you. I let myself get caught up in it. I wanted to be that stupid girl in the photograph…the one you loved. _

"What am I to you?" She lowered her face to look at him.

Sirius frowned and remained silent.

She tilted her head to the side. "You've been gone for over twelve years, Sirius. You thought I was dead…how could you still love me? How is it possible?"

Sirius avoided her gaze. "It's not the same type of love," he replied, picking at the edge of the sofa cushion. "Why shouldn't I love you?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers. "You deserve to be loved, Althea. _Don't_ interrupt me. _You deserve to be loved_."

Althea was silent. How could one remain in love for so long? She certainly did not remain _in_ love with him for twelve years. She shifted her gaze to his mouth—he was still speaking, but she could not hear him. Her mind was consumed with the thought of Sirius's preposterous notion that, after everything, he was still in love with her. She was sure if she told any man or any woman, he or she would have judged her. Remus had. Gran had. She knew she was in constant judgment from Dumbledore. She was sure that if she had told Sirius, he would have cursed her, humiliated her, or ran away. However, there he sat—quite still—a man that knew every horrific detail, but did not judge her…he loved her.

_In love with me? How could it be possible? What does 'in love' mean? 'In love'…it's just not possible_, she thought as Sirius continued to speak. _That word…'in'_... She hiccoughed and hastily covered her mouth when she realized what _in_ meant. He was not _in love_ with her—it was not possible—not after twelve years of believing in her death. Nevertheless, what sort of love was it? It was not the fickle lust that masqueraded as love that she felt when they were teenagers (when to be in love was the only sort of love), nor was it love that seemed to be for convenience sake (at least that is what she reasoned years after the fall of Voldemort—dating was very difficult with Death Eaters around). She understood what Sirius meant. A strange feeling of acceptance washed over her. It was love for the sake of love.

"God," Sirius began, sitting forward, "I will do everything to make you happy."

Sirius's words shook Althea out of her stupor. "Please, don't make promises. I believed those promises."

"It's not a promise," he replied—his voice earnest—his fingertips gently brushed loose strands of hair off her face. "Do you remember the last words you spoke to me our last night together?"

Althea slightly shook her head.

He looked somewhat disappointed, but said, "'You've made me happy'."

Althea did not dare open her mouth. She bit the inside of her lip to stifle the inappropriate laughter building inside. _I reckon I was referring to sex_, she thought, feeling small pangs of guilt at Sirius's different interpretation.

"I've failed miserably," he said, the tears welling in his eyes. "You trusted me—believed in me—and I failed. I left you like your—"

"Father," she whispered.

Sirius did not reply, but his eyes flickered with is response. _That single moment_, she thought as she placed her hand atop his forearm. The thought that Sirius was just as affected by her father's death startled her. From the moment she discovered his death, it was _her_ pain. It was _her_ loss. The sympathy and actions of others were to comfort _her_. She had not fully recognized how her father's death had affected those around her. _How could I have been so stupid not to see it_, she thought as her fingertips stroked his forearm. _I was shaped by that moment…our relationship was shaped by that moment. He did what I did. We wanted to right it—that is why he understands_….

"We've lived in the past too long."

Sirius's lips upturned slowly into a smile. "Yes," he whispered eagerly and his hand slid to the back of her neck. "None of it matters now. The war is over." He gently pulled her closer. "Nothing is stopping us from being together…how we should have been."

"No," she whispered and jerked her head away.

Sirius sighed with annoyance. "What?"

"How can you be so sure?" she asked and removed his hand. "You promise me now, but…when your name is cleared, you'll leave me."

"Oh, of all the—"

"How could I not think it? That under different circumstances—"

Sirius grabbed her shoulders. "I love you," he said, staring into her eyes. "Who do you think I'd leave you for?"

Althea lowered her face. "Someone without the baggage, someone who can give you what you need," she said and hesitated, "someone who can have children."

"Bollocks!" he said as his fingertips stroked her shoulders. The sensations on her bare skin were exquisite—she held her breath. "Do you really think—_I was in Azkaban_!"

"Right, I'm convenient, then? Don't have to work at it?"

"Don't have to work at it? What am I doing now?" he demanded and shook her slightly. Althea lifted her face to look into his eyes. "I want you. I've always wanted you."

She trembled at his earnest expression. "But you thought I was dead—"

"Stop making excuses!"

"They're not—"

"Why are you afraid?"

Althea was quiet.

"Why are you afraid?" he repeated-his eyes searching her face. "I know you want to be with me."

Althea blinked, which allowed a few tears to escape. "What life can we have?"

"What life?" he repeated as he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "A bloody fantastic one—the one we're supposed to have!"

"But—"

"Stop fighting it!"

Althea violently pushed him away. "I don't want to live the rest of my life dodging dementors!"

Sirius leaned back on the sofa and stared at her, expressionless. She made an awful gasping noise and clasped a shaky hand to her mouth. She sank back into her chair and started to sob.

"It—it was—horrible," she said, barely able to catch her breath. "This—this year the—the dementors. I can't—can't fight them." She paused and forced herself to inhale a large breath. She looked up from her wet palms. Sirius's arm was outstretched with a handkerchief. Althea nodded with thanks and took the handkerchief. "I dreamt they caught you," she continued, wiping her eyes. "The officials forced me to watch—I just couldn't bear it!" She collapsed into sobs once more.

"I'm safe here," he said and Althea let out a yelp. "Look, the Ministry doesn't know I'm an Animagus and dementors only care about humans." She shuddered as she felt Sirius slide his arms around her. "It won't be easy," he said soothingly and pulled her close, "but I need you."

Althea hiccoughed. "Need?"

"Yes," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "I need you."

Althea remained rigid in his arms as she contemplated his peculiar admission. Sirius had changed; twelve years ago, if she had kept such secrets, upon discovery he would have left her. However, twelve years later, he knew everything, and despite her protests and her well-meant deceit, he continued to comfort her and to express his love for her. _No man in those twelve years_, she thought as Sirius stroked her hair. _I've been such a fool_. Althea opened her bleary eyes. The first rays of the early morning sun peaked through the large windows. _He realized it when he thought I was dead—when he lost everything…how much he needed us. He assumed we would always be there, and when we weren't…. Here we have that chance again, but I've fought it. I thought I was weak—I was told that I was weak for my feelings. I've suppressed them and never had the chance_—

"I love you."

The change in Sirius was immediate—as it was in her. The rigidness in her posture left and she allowed herself to be fully encompassed in his arms. She no longer felt guilt in the happy feeling the closeness gave her. Her weariness and her emptiness that had become her intimate friends slipped away—she felt alive.

Reluctantly, she left Sirius's embrace and placed her palm against his cheek. "I was an idiot," she said and enjoyed the way his stubble felt against her fingertips.

Sirius smiled. "Indeed," he said and chuckled softly. He rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, too."

Althea caught her breath as his parted lips met hers. She felt a pleasant twinge in her stomach that she had not felt in years. _After everything, he loves me and wants to be with me_, she thought, reluctantly pulling away from him. She touched her wand to one of her tattoos and muttered a Concealment Charm. _I reckon he never wants to see them again_, she thought and winced again at the prickling sensation created as her tattoos slowly faded. _Nor do I_.Sirius yawned loudly and scratched the back of his head.

"It is late, isn't it?" she remarked as she stood up.

Sirius sleepily closed one eye. "Or early."

"Right," she breathed and held out her hand.

Sirius raised an eyebrow as he stared at her hand.

"I reckon that sofa isn't very comfortable for sleeping," she explained and slightly bit her bottom lip.

He shrugged and smiled. "I reckon it isn't."

Sirius took her hand and stood. He did not move; instead, he held her hand before him, considering it, his thumb gently stroked her skin. He slowly smiled a crooked smile and lifted her hand to his lips—her pulse quickened. She pulled him forward and Sirius followed closely behind.

She inhaled a deep breath. She was trembling—her hand was trembling—at the thought of him. She thought herself silly for feeling so—they had a daughter for God's sake! Still, the two—silent—ascended the staircase. She looked toward Sirius who grinned and winked. She giggled deeply. She pushed open her bedroom door, which creaked accordingly. The early morning sun had peaked through her bedroom curtains, illuminating various paths upon the wood floor.

Althea caught her breath at the feel of Sirius's hands upon her waist. She closed her eyes as he swept the locks of hair off her neck. His lips hesitated, hovering above her cooled skin. _Please_, she begged, as his breath sent small electrical currents through her heightened skin—he still had that effect upon her.

"Ah, lovely," he whispered, lightly kissing the nape of her neck.

She felt the slow easing of her dress as he lowered the zipper. She would think he would be frantic, hurried, but he was just as she remembered him. He would savor every inch of her. Althea rested her head against his shoulder as he pulled her close to him. His hands slid beneath her lace knickers, and she bit her lip as his supple fingers glided over her warmth. Her knees buckled slightly at his touch.

He quietly cleared his throat. "Maybe I should—"

Althea vigorously nodded. She heard Sirius's clothes fall to the floor. She slowly turned to face him. His thinned frame would have appalled a younger Althea. She raised her fingers to the silvery pink slashes upon his side—those were battle scars she did not remember.

"Hit Wizards," he said and swallowed. "I didn't go to Azkaban quietly."

Althea wrinkled her nose.

Sirius lifted his hand to her cheek. His dulled, grey eyes betrayed their intensity at which he looked upon her. "I love you," he murmured and pressed his lips to hers.

His lips tickled her neck as she reclined on the soft mattress, Sirius eagerly following her. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed the sensation of his naked, smooth form against her own. Nothing else mattered at that moment—the room seemed exceptionally still—as he deepened his kiss…the glorious feeling of wanting to be consumed by the other returned. His lips were deliberate and tortuous. Her skin burned at the thought of him, and the heavy, pleasant ache between her thighs intensified. She raised her pelvis to meet him as he coaxed her apart. Immediately, she grasped at the bedclothes, her fingers kneading into the soft cotton fabric. She closed her eyes, succumbing to the languid rhythm—her mind a delicious fog. She giggled deeply—he seemed…reverent. She felt it come—that delicious, unbearable tightness. Her legs trembled at his touch and she felt that release—that euphoric release—beneath him.

He chuckled softly.

_Always_, she thought, her lips curving into a smile as Sirius's lips kissed her inner thigh. She lifted his head, smoothing the hair from his face as she sat up. She rested her hands against his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly against her.

"I want to do something," she whispered, gently rolling him onto his back—her hands intertwined with his at the sides of his face. She winked and Sirius grinned.

Althea's lips, unhurried, lightly kissed and caressed his tanned chest as his fingertips massaged the back of her head. Ever so often, her eyes would drift upward and she would smile as their eyes met. Her heart beat excitedly as her lips detected the subtle quickening of his pulse beneath the surface of his soft skin. She had forgotten how quickly he could flush, and the new pink brought a smile to her lips. Her lips passed his bellybutton and she paused, fiercely kissing and sucking at his delicate skin, his fingers tightly grasping her hair.

The muscles of his stomach tensed in eagerness. Her mouth hovered over him. Her eyes drifted upward and met his. She could feel him, warm, pulsating against her lips. He raised his eyebrow and mustered a faint smile in anticipation at the feel of her breath. She exhaled once more and enjoyed his pleading look. He tasted like Pumpkin Pasties. It was an observation she had made at seventeen when she enjoyed the faint salty taste of both. She disregarded his quiet pleading and coaxing for she knew what he truly needed. Her lips curved upward as his fingers dug into her hair, pulling it slightly. Sirius relaxed beneath her. She could control him—she relished that power. She lifted her head, satisfied in his relief, and crawled toward him. She lowered herself to kiss him and his lips mingled with hers in frenzied appreciation. She allowed her fingers to graze his naked chest—gliding over the smooth, black hairs—his heart bounding against her fingertips. She pulled away, Sirius's teeth begging her for one last kiss. Her body ached in anticipation of him. She let out a gasp at the delicious twinge, the instant satisfaction of him.

* * *

The sore, cramped feeling in Althea's neck woke her from her sleep. She lifted her head from Sirius' shoulder and massaged her stiff neck. _I'm not accustomed to sleeping like this_, she thought and turned her head from side to side. _He is so very thin_.

Sirius stirred beneath her. "Wha—what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said and kissed his chest. "A stiff neck—that's all."

Sirius yawned loudly and groaned when he moved his arm out from underneath her. "Stiff arm," he said as he massaged his left shoulder. "How did we ever sleep like this?"

Althea rolled over onto her back and sighed. She looked up at her ceiling as she spoke, "We were young…it was expected to bask in the afterglow of lovemaking."

She looked to Sirius, who was smiling to himself. "Afterglow?"

"Yes," she replied with a small smile and looked once more toward the ceiling, "afterglow."

"Sweaty, more like it," he murmured as she felt him sit up.

"Indeed," she sighed and lazily glanced at the clock on the nightstand—it was half past eleven in the morning.

Suddenly, Sirius pounced atop Althea, and she let out a gasp of surprise. She looked up at Sirius and she began to giggle. "What?" she asked as he eagerly grinned above her.

Sirius quickly raised and lowered his eyebrows.

Althea sighed happily and stroked a lock of hair behind his left ear. It swiftly fell back into his face. "Is sex the only reason we're back together?" she asked as she playfully narrowed her eyes.

"It isn't the _only_ reason," he answered and lowered his head to kiss her lips. "But it's a bloody fantastic one."

"It's the only one you can think of at the moment," she said and winked.

Sirius's fingertips leisurely glided up and down her cheek. "God," he breathed, his eyes hungrily taking in her face. "I never thought I'd be in bed—here, with you—ever again."

"Indeed," she murmured, resting her hands against his chest.

Althea lifted her face to meet his. She smiled when she felt the quickening of his heartbeat against her fingertips.

"Unreal," he whispered and smiled.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter 16**

Althea slowly extended her legs, and allowed them—relaxed and heavy—to sink into her mattress. Closing her eyes, she smiled and leisurely ran her fingers through Sirius's hair; her fingertips delicately traced small circles into his damp scalp. Sirius's arms tightened around her—the sweat cooling against her skin—his deep, quick breaths warmed her cheek and neck. Light-headed, she inhaled deeply through her nostrils and, with an exaggerated movement, brought her hand to her face, and wiped the wet hair off her forehead. Sirius lifted his head, tilted it to the side, and slightly narrowed his eyes as he looked at her.

"What?" she whispered, stroking his cheek.

Sirius shook his head and shifted his body next to her. He rested the side of his face against her breast and placed his arm around her waist. "I wasn't very comfortable," he murmured sleepily.

"Oh."

Althea lazily looked toward the chaise longue and at the half-finished sketch of Sirius. She smiled. He wanted her to sketch him. She decided that she would not propose the idea for many years, but Sirius's insistence that morning was irresistible. It had only been one week since she exposed her past to him. Sirius had accepted her and professed his love despite the ugliness in which she thought would keep him from her forever. He, too, over those days confessed things to her. His brutality in the face of war shocked her and she understood why Remus could think him Dark.

Still, she took great liberty with the sketch—the layers Sirius hid behind would not slough off, and although she drew him post-Azkaban, his face and unfinished body did not display the ravages of that prison. Althea looked up at the ceiling, her eyes followed the intricate floral patterns created from the molding, and sighed happily. It felt good to be wanted—to be needed. To feel emotions stir inside her she had not felt in almost thirteen years. For thirteen years, she had feigned love, attraction, and lust. The men she had dated and had slept with were only interested in the sexual act—the conquest—it did not matter that it was Althea—it never mattered who the woman was. No man ever wanted _her_. No man ever needed _her_. No man ever loved _her_. _This is what I want to be—to be the only thing that matters_, she thought and kissed the top of Sirius's damp head. Sirius reciprocated by tightening his embrace.

_I believe this is the best time to tell him_, she thought—a small, nervous twinge developed in her stomach. For the last week or so, Althea entertained the idea of resigning from her position at Hogwarts. She never meant to be a professor, found the job frightfully boring, and Sirius's reentrance into her life presented the perfect excuse to leave.

"I will resign from Hogwarts," she whispered, stroking the back of his head.

Sirius lifted his head from her breast. "Quit Hogwarts?"

Althea nodded.

"What brought this about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," she began, and smoothed the hair away from his face, "who will cook for you?"

A faint smirk emerged across his lips. "Oh, I think I can cook for myself."

Althea screwed her eyes up in thought. "Who will clean up after you?"

He laughed quietly. "You've _never_ cleaned up after me."

Althea playfully frowned. "You can't be seen, so how will you purchase food and such?"

"You have a garden—"

"You," she interrupted and raised a skeptical eyebrow, "eat only fruits and vegetables?"

"I did live off rats."

"Don't remind me," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"No," Sirius said, and kissed the top of her breast, "I _think_ you have another reason you want to quit your job."

Althea weakly fought a smile. "Who will keep you company?" she asked as Sirius' smirk deepened. "_Human_ company."

Sirius brought her hand to his lips. "No," he began and kissed her fingertips, "that's not the reason, my love."

"What is it then?"

"You just haven't had great sex in almost thirteen years."

"Oh, don't be stupid," she scoffed and pushed him away as she sat up.

Sirius, laughing, fell back onto the bed. "It's true," he said and stopped laughing as he saw Althea stand. "What are you doing?"

Althea slipped her arm into her silk dressing gown. "I'm about to write my resignation letter," she said as she tied the sash to her dressing gown.

Sirius quickly sat up. "You really are, then?" he asked, leaning forward. "You're resigning?"

She nodded with a small smile. "Yeah," she breathed, looking from Sirius to the window—the bright, clear day matched her mood perfectly. "I'll tell him to sod off, but I'll be polite about it."

"Indeed," he replied and flung himself back onto the bed. "Oh, this will be brilliant!"

"It will," she agreed and sat at her dressing table. "I reckon I could purchase property in other places and have them protected just as well."

"Right," he said as Althea finished her greeting to Dumbledore. "We could become bored here—this island isn't very big, is it?"

"No," she said and attempted to feign thanks in her letter for all those years as professor of Muggle Studies. "Anywhere in the world you want to live—we'll go."

"Anywhere in the world…how about the cottage?"

Althea stopped writing. "I haven't lived there for years," she answered, feeling uneasy. "Why not somewhere warm? I could buy us an island in the South Pacific. Imagine the seclusion, then—an entire ocean!" she said and looked over her shoulder.

Sirius made a face. "I liked the cottage," he said, picking at the bottom sheet. "The garage where I spent my time maintaining my motorbike—"

"To check up on me," she finished and resumed writing her letter.

"As if you didn't break things around the cottage so I could mend them," he said. "Really, though, it would be good. Harry could visit—he'd like it there. Where Petunia lives, it's too suburban."

"Isn't it?" she agreed and signed her name with a flourish. "Finished," she added and turned to face him. "Would you like to read it?"

Sirius nodded and stood up from the bed. Althea stifled a giggle as Sirius strode across her bedroom floor.

"What?"

"You could've put on pants or something."

Sirius shrugged.

Althea held out the letter. "Do you think he'll understand my meaning behind my resignation letter?"

Sirius took the letter and nodded. "He will," he answered, scanning the letter. "However, I think you could have just written: 'Dear Dumbledore, I quit because I enjoy having it off with Sirius. Sincerely, Althea.' I think that would have worked perfectly well."

"Yes, but I'd like to resign with some dignity," she explained, taking the letter from him. "I don't want to be known as the Hogwarts Whore."

"No one would think that," he said, sliding his arms around her. "This will be brilliant."

"Yes," she said, smiling as she reread her resignation letter, "it will be loads of fun."

"More than that," he said and kissed her cheek. "It'll be like old times."

"I don't think it could ever be like old times," she said absentmindedly, folding the letter.

"Yes, it will," he replied, sweeping the hair off her neck. "Although, your hair is a bit shorter. Like the shorter hair, really—less chance of pulling it or it falling into my face. I'd look like a bloody idiot in the middle of the night, smacking myself in the face, trying to remove your hair. You never woke up to notice—no, kept on snoring and kicking me in my side."

Althea took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm not the same person I was thirteen years ago."

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters now," he murmured into her ear and kissed the nape of her neck. The pleasant feeling it generated enticed Althea to hold Sirius closer. "I know that if we're ever cornered by Death Eaters, I want you at my side."

She frowned. "You don't mean that."

"I do," he said, matter-of-fact, and kissed the nape of her neck once more. "I want you there. I wouldn't feel so guilty—"

"Blowing them apart, I know," she finished, removing herself from Sirius's embrace. "Let's pray we never have to undergo Voldemort again."

"Agreed, my love. Agreed."

Althea gazed into the large mirror before her. "You like my shorter hair, though?" she asked, and scrutinized her shoulder-length hair—it needed to be combed…urgently.

Sirius nodded. "As I said, I'm not smacking my face in the middle of the night," he replied and gently tugged a curl. "However, you still kick me, and your feet are _cold_. When did they become so cold?"

Althea smirked. "You don't have to sleep in our bed."

"Oh, that wouldn't be any fun," he said, sliding his hands to untie her dressing gown.

"Right," she said laughingly, removing his hands from her sash. "And I don't snore."

"You do…repeatedly."

Althea opened her mouth to protest, but Sirius roughly kissed her cheek.

"I'll make us," he began and looked toward the clock—he smiled, "_lunch_."

Althea let out a sigh once Sirius left the bedroom. "He better not wear my mum's apron," she muttered and started to shake with laughter. "And I don't bloody snore!"

* * *

Althea lifted herself onto her elbows and looked out to sea. _What is he doing_, she thought, raising an eyebrow. Sirius noticed his lone audience and dived into the clear blue water. His skinny legs surfaced with a flourish of seawater and awkwardly extended into the air as he attempted a handstand. She giggled at the display to impress her, and fell back onto the warm blanket—laughing—when a large wave crashed into him and knocked him over into the sea. Althea closed her eyes and smiled—she enjoyed the feeling of the sun's warmth on her skin. _No more cold and dreary Hogwarts_, she thought, her fingers gliding over the sand. _When my letter arrives, Dumbledore will have ample time to find a replacement…it shouldn't be that difficult_.

After sending her resignation letter earlier that afternoon, Althea mulled over the possibilities of her freedom. She was still young and now had the opportunity to do what she wanted. _Eventually, I could return to Healing_, she thought. _Maybe at that hospital in Bimini. It wouldn't be for some years, though…once we're bored from traveling_. A large shadow, which loomed over her, distracted her from her thoughts.

"You're dripping all over me," she said, opening her eyes.

"Sorry," Sirius said and grabbed his towel. Drying his hair, he sat next to her. "This sun is fantastic."

Althea nodded. "Never cloudy. Never cold," she said and rolled onto her stomach. "Never drafty…like Hogwarts."

She felt a gentle tugging at her bikini. She turned her head toward Sirius.

"You don't want tan lines, do you?" he said as she felt the strings on her bikini top loosen.

"You're so very thoughtful," she remarked and rested the side of her face on her forearm. "You've spared me the embarrassment of tan lines."

"You could always go topless," he said, reclining next to her.

"I could," she said and closed her eyes, "but Afina designed this for me."

_And I enjoy the look you have when I wear it_, she thought, smiling to herself.

"Harry's fourteen today," Sirius said as his fingertips barely stroked her back. "Do you think I sent his gift in time?"

"Mhmm," she murmured, enjoying the way his fingers felt upon her skin.

"I hope he enjoys that cake—"

"He better enjoy that cake," she warned, opening her eyes. "It took an entire day to clean the kitchen. You know I'm awful at Cleaning Charms."

"Sorry," he said and kissed her back.

"I still find flour in my kitchen," she said, fighting a smile as he continued to kiss her. "I reckon I'll still find it years from now."

"And I'll apologize then, too," he said and tickled her side.

Althea giggled and rolled onto her back. "Don't complain of a sun burned bum," she teased, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"What makes you think we'll stay like this?" he whispered into her ear. "What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Never mind," he murmured and fiercely kissed her neck. Althea closed her eyes and slid her fingers underneath the waistband of his swimming trunks. "What the—ow!"

Althea opened her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"No!" he growled and brought a hand to the back of his head.

A large brown owl circled above them. _Damn_, she thought, looking at the owl.

"It's Gran's owl."

"Have it go away," he said and kissed the top of her breast.

"I can't." She closed her eyes and smiled, arching her back as his lips lightly stroked against her nipple.

"Fucking owl!" he growled, lifting his head. "Get that damn letter."

Althea begrudgingly sat up and waited for the owl to land. Sirius meanwhile, brought his hand to the back of his head and winced. He withdrew his hand, looked at it, and narrowed his eyes.

"That owl drew blood," he said, showing his fingertips coated in small amounts of bright red blood. "It's vicious, just like her."

Althea untied the large envelop from the owl's legs. "I'll have to feed him," she said and shook the sand off her bikini top.

"Why don't you feed him to Buckbeak?" he said, staring darkly at the owl. "Buckbeak's probably hungry."

"Then Gran would fly to Bermuda, wondering where her owl had gone," she said, tightening the bow behind her neck. "And we can't have that."

Sirius inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils as he stood—his eyes transfixed on the owl. _If I leave him alone with the owl, he will feed it to Buckbeak_, she thought as the couple walked toward the house. Sirius continued to look menacingly at the bird. _The sand would've ruined our fun anyway_. After she filled a bowl full of water for the owl, Althea joined Sirius on the porch. Sulking, Sirius sat on the bench, his legs drawn up to his chest and the envelope in his hands. Althea smiled sympathetically as she sat down next to him.

"Here," he said and held out the large beige envelope. "I reckon your day will be ruined if you read it now or later."

Althea nodded in thanks as she took the envelope. "You know that old woman too well."

With mild interest, Sirius watched Althea open the envelope. _Why must she insist on so much sellotape_, she thought and grunted as she tore the envelop open. Two smaller envelopes cascaded out and fell against Sirius's foot. Althea's eyes focused on the larger of the two.

"My God," she whispered as she read the return address. She felt a small chill.

"What?"

Althea timidly picked up the letter. _It's addressed to Northfield_, she thought as her stomach twisted upon itself. She began to shake.

"What is wrong?"

Althea, not looking up from the address, spoke, "It's from Mrs. Parker."

"God," he breathed and gently placed his hand over her trembling hand. "Would you like me to open it?"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "I'll—I'll open it."

Timidly, she opened the letter and felt a sinking feeling in her chest. _Prudence_, she thought, reading the introduction and queries into her health. _By my resignation, I'm giving up my chance to see her_. Althea frowned deeply. What benefit would she have of seeing Prudence? Prudence would never take Muggle Studies and close interaction outside of the classroom—especially between a student not taking her class and Althea—would be considered inappropriate. It would be noticed. _I'll have a greater chance this way_, she thought, as she looked through the letter—the words became a blurry mess. _I'll have an opportunity I wouldn't have at Hogwarts. I could truly mentor her…if Mrs. Parker would let it continue_. Althea blinked and continued to read the letter:

_Simple words could not express the gratitude we feel towards you, Althea. Prudence is a beautiful and bright girl, who delights in telling stories about Hogwarts. It was a great surprise to learn that you are a professor there. She has nothing but the best to say about you. The admiration is apparent in her eyes…. _

Althea looked up from the letter and wiped her eyes with the heel of her right hand.

_I have received your letter concerning Prudence's father, Sirius. The circumstances that surrounded the birth of Prudence were truly saddening, and the latest revelation only added to this sad tale. It is our hope, one day, Prudence will be able to understand those circumstances and will know four parents who love her…._

Althea stopped reading the letter and shoved it at Sirius. She covered her face with her hands as she began to sob.

"They want us to meet her?"

Althea nodded. "Eventually," she forced out.

"I—I don't believe this," he said, sliding his arms around her shoulders. "I would've thought—"

Althea inhaled a large, gasping breath. "They're wonderful people," she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

"Right," he said—his voice shaky—and kissed the side of her head. "Shh, my love," he whispered, stroking her back. "She's enclosed some photographs. Wouldn't you like to see them?"

Althea sniffed loudly as she pulled away. _She wants us to know Prudence_, she thought as she sniffed again. She furrowed her eyebrows. _How long has she wanted this_? Althea opened the envelope and covered her mouth with her hand at the sight of the pile of photographs. _I don't believe this_! Carefully, she removed the paper that surrounded the photographs, and noticed a message attached:

_I've wanted to send you these photographs for a long time. Prudence insists she was a very fat baby, but I believe we will both agree that she is perfect_.

Althea let out a small laugh as she looked upon the first photograph. She noticed Sirius had leaned forward to see.

"Look," she said, smiling at the photograph of Prudence in her highchair. Prudence—her face, hair, and hands covered in orange sauce—grinned back at the couple.

Sirius laughed. "Is that a spoon hovering over her head?"

Althea looked closer at the photograph and nodded. She flipped the photograph over and noticed writing. "She wrote that it was very difficult to explain to family and neighbors why Prudence's spoons would hover above her head."

"We might owe them money for burnt carpet, yet," he said and grabbed another photograph. "I bought her that doll!"

Althea shifted her gaze from her photograph to the one in Sirius's hands. Prudence, wrapped in the pink blanket Lily had made, was fast asleep in the sunny window niche. In her arms, she held the small porcelain doll with long, curly black hair that Sirius had bought for her.

"It was the first gift you bought her," she said, resting her hand on his forearm. "You returned from a mission, bruised and bloodied—your hair caked in mud—carrying this beautiful, spotless doll."

"Yeah," he laughed quietly and turned over the photograph. "'The afternoon of her fifth birthday. She had her fill of presents and cake, and decided to retire to her favorite spot with her doll, Elizabeth.'"

Althea coaxed Sirius to turn the photograph over again. "Absolutely beautiful," she said, her eyes focusing on Prudence's small, delicate face.

She looked to the rest of the photographs and smiled. Mrs. Parker had carefully chosen photographs that documented each stage of Prudence's young life. As Althea looked upon the photograph of Prudence on holiday with her brother, the aching sadness that she did her best to suppress surfaced. _I should've been the one taking these photographs_, she thought as Prudence proudly modeled her Hogwarts uniform. _I pray that you understand and that you won't hate me_.

"This isn't fair," she said, keenly taking in every detail of Prudence in the photograph.

"It isn't."

"She'll hate me."

"No, she won't—"

"_Yes_, she will," she interrupted, stroking the side of the photograph. "If she discovered that I knew all along that she was my daughter and kept that knowledge from her—_lied to her_…can you imagine? At Hogwarts that entire time…." Althea looked at Sirius. "Do you think she knows that she's adopted?"

Sirius shrugged and picked up the letter. He chewed his bottom lip as he studied it. "From the letter, she might know." He furrowed his eyebrows. "She might not know _everything_, though—circumstances, names and such—but I doubt she could hate you. She's a smart girl, my love. She'll understand." Althea opened her mouth to protest, but Sirius continued, "The Quidditch World Cup?"

"What?"

"The Quidditch World Cup," he answered, a smile slowly crept across his face. "According to the letter, our Prudence who 'prides herself in not being the least bit sporty' will attend." He developed a hopeful expression.

"I don't even want to know what scheme you've just concocted to enter the match, but it won't work," she said and wrinkled her nose at the envelope with Gran's handwriting. "I don't have tickets."

"How could you _not_ have tickets?"

"I'm not that much of a fan."

Sirius's head jolted back at the revelation. "_What_? How could you not be a fan? You played it."

"Well," she said, taking the envelope from Gran in her hands, "playing and watching are two different things. Anyway, I tried out as a joke—part of a forfeit, really. I had no idea I'd _make_ the team—least of all, Seeker."

"Why d'you stay on, then?"

Althea tore the top of the envelope. "I thought it would displease Gran," she replied and smirked. "Little did I know she was Gryffindor 1916."

"Probably a Beater."

"No, Chaser. Speaking of the old woman, she has tickets; you could always go with her."

Sirius shivered. "I'd rather kiss a dementor."

Althea frowned.

Sirius mocked an excited gasp. "Is that a letter from the woman I love as much as my wonderfully deceased mother?"

Althea nodded. "Go ahead and read it, patriarch of the most noble and ancient of families," she said and tossed him the opened envelope.

Sirius removed the letter from the envelope. "She hasn't cursed it," he remarked and opened the folded letter. "I thought for sure that if I touched it I would've gone up in a ball of flame."

"She believes that I never want to see you again."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. "You are not that good of a liar, Morrigan," he said and wrinkled his nose. "Still insists on calling you Althea Rosemary?"

"Unfortunately."

Sirius held out the letter before him, rigidly straightened himself, and took a deep breath before speaking, "'Afina has told me everything.'"

"Oh fuck."

"No 'How are you, my darling granddaughter'?"

"Of course not."

"'Innocent, indeed! I went to Hogwarts'—she _went_ to Hogwarts?" Sirius made a face and Althea knew he would continue this commentary throughout Gran's letter. "'I went to Hogwarts to sort out this madness only to discover that incredible fool, Dumbledore, believed in Black's innocence as well. I then wrote your friend, Remus…'" Sirius fell into a fit of laughter and let the letter fall to his lap.

"What?" she asked as she went to retrieve the letter, but Sirius held the letter away from her.

"'Althea Rosemary, at Hogwarts? You are very lucky, indeed, that such a scandal between two schoolteachers was not exposed. Please, show some sense of decency amongst the children, it is all I ask.'"

Althea threw her head back. "Afina would _not_ tell her that," she said and narrowed her eyes. "She's a bloody Legilimens, I swear to you."

Sirius cleared his throat and sighed. "'I am prepared for my meeting with that foul and loathsome'—do you ever remind her that I'm Prudence's father?"

Althea lowered her head and shrugged. "She doesn't care."

"'I beg you to remember all of the horrible, unspeakable things and refrain yourself from the foolishness that lurks within you. He is no good'—isn't she going to say something about the family that disowned me?" Sirius scanned the letter with his index finger. "No, no, still wasting ink to remind you how awful I am. Aren't you glad that I'm reading this for you?"

"I'm bloody delighted."

"There!" He slapped his finger against the second page of the letter. "'Nothing good ever came from the Black family. If You-Know-Who himself'—old woman, he wishes he could come from such a Dark family. Had wet dreams about it, I'm sure."

"And your cousin was there to lick up the cum."

Sirius let out a laugh of surprise. "Althea Rosemary!" he scolded with mock outrage. He lifted the letter. "He didn't have a cock anyway."

"How could I have forgotten?" she said as Sirius hummed. "That rousing song you and James would sing, 'Who'd Want a Voldemort So Short.'"

"Indeed," he said and frowned at the letter. "Is that all?" He shuffled through the remaining papers. "Just two pages?"

"She did have twelve years to entertain me with her thoughts on you," she said and looked upon the letter. "This was the condensed version—the highlights of your awfulness."

Sirius shook his head. "Ignoring your duty, your responsibility to attend the Applewood Garden Fete. Oh, Merlin's fucking nipple clamps! Lady G wore the same hat to the Applewoods' fete _and_ Lady H's luncheon!"

Althea grabbed the letter from Sirius and gasped. "No! How could she have done something so horrible?" She tossed the letter at Sirius. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"My mock fear of you is keeping me from the most boring of holidays at Northfield."

Sirius smiled. "You're welcome," he replied and sighed as he continued to skim the letter. "Fuck," he breathed—his eyes widened as he read the new page.

Althea giggled. "What this time?" she asked, leaning closer. "Sophie embarrassed Lady A and Gran by publicly snogging George? His father was in trade—a milkman! Oh heavens—oh bollocks, more like it. "

"I'm not joking!" He pulled at his hair and growled. "Fuck!"

Althea's smile faded as Sirius fretfully read the letter. "What?"

Without looking up, Sirius said, "After her visit with Afina, she has decided to visit _you_."

A sensation of ice water washed over her insides. She covered her face with the palms of her hands. "Why? Why must this old woman ruin my holiday?"

"It's for your birthday. She'll try to convince Afina to visit, too."

Althea groaned. "I knew I should've visited before I left—damn it! It bloody ruins everything, doesn't it? That bloody old woman!"

Sirius gently removed her hands from her face. "It won't be as awful as it could be," he said and smiled placatingly. "I'll be here."

"Oh God," she said, her stomach twisted upon itself. "She'll kill you."

"She doesn't know that I'm an Animagus, right?" he asked and rested his hands on her shoulders.

"No."

"Brilliant," he said happily and kissed her forehead. "I'll be a loveable stray that you've adopted—she'll never know. It'll be like old times."

Althea weakly lifted the corners of her mouth into a half-hearted smile. "That's what I'm afraid of."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter 17**

Althea yawned and nestled the side of her face into the crook of his shoulder as Sirius intently read the sport columns in the _Daily Prophet_. _Is this what my life has become_, she wondered as a slight breeze rustled the newspaper in his hands. _I reckoned we weren't old enough for this yet_. Frowning that she could not garner his attention, she rolled onto her back—careful not to stub her toes against the picnic basket at her feet. She looked up at the sky—blocked by the leaves and branches of two large trees—and sighed. The _Daily Prophet_ interrupted their last romantic outing before Gran and Afina would arrive in the evening. _What could be so important_, she thought as a breezed played upon the leaves, which created a display of shimmering light and shadow below. _This is our last chance before that old woman arrives. It's not like we could sneak off to some remote part of this island…it's not that enormous_.

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh, which startled her. "I wonder the sort of response he'll have now."

Althea lifted herself onto her elbows. "What?"

Sirius, continuing to chuckle, handed her the folded newspaper. Althea fully sat up and frowned.

"What's this?"

"Oh, read it," he said and pointed to the small advertisement beneath used cauldrons.

"'Lonely Potions Master seeks equally sniveling Mistress in hopes to brew romance. Must enjoy the smell of pickled Erkling, drafty dungeons, and lack of bathing. All requests'," she read and paused. She looked up from the newspaper and wrinkled her nose. "Sirius, this is awful."

Sirius playfully frowned. "Oh, don't _defend_ him."

"No, it's awful," she said and unfolded the newspaper. She smiled wryly as she added, "You've lost your touch."

Sirius's posture stiffened in playful indignance. "I have not. I think it's fantastic," he said and leaned closer. He whispered conspiratorially into her ear, "Imagine all the letters he will receive…maybe there'll be photographs of naked hags again."

Althea gently pushed him away. "Ugh, Sirius, no."

"Oh, come on, sixth year," he reminisced—his lips curving into a large grin. "Who would have known there would've been so many witches that wanted to shampoo his hair?" He tugged at her skirt as he asked, "Do you think he answered any of those?

"I don't want to know if he ever answered any of those. Nor do I want to know if anyone answered the seventh year advertisement about long walks along the beach whilst killing flies."

Sirius's grin turned devilish. "What about the puffskein fetish?"

Althea covered her face with her hands in disgust. "Ugh, I forgot about that one! How did you even think of that one?"

"Moony."

Althea's hands dropped into her lap. "Remus? Remus invented the puffskein fetish?"

"He didn't invent it," he said—he outstretched his legs and reclined upon his elbows. "Someone else did that. No, he read about it."

"_Read_ about it? In a wizard magazine or something?"

"No, an academic journal. Believe me, we were just as surprised when he mentioned puffskein fetish. He discovered it while writing a paper on the yeti. I reckon it was in the same issue. A couple went to St. Pantaleon's after one of them had an allergic reaction to the puffskein—a nasty rash and swelling," he explained—his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "It was awful. It's such a rare reaction that the Healer asked the man and woman how—"

"Sirius, no," she interrupted and began to laugh. "No more. That is by far the most disturbing—"

"It was in an _academic_ journal!"

"Were you drunk when he told this story?"

"I was not drunk!"

"Did this journal have photographs of naked, large-breasted witches?"

Sirius mockingly gasped. "Are you suggesting that Remus Lupin, _Professor_ _Remus Lupin_, would dare to look upon pornography?"

"How could he not," she began—pulling at blades of grass, "with the large stash underneath your dormitory bed."

Sirius quickly sat up. "What—_what_?"

"Come off it—Lily and I _found_ them," she said and teasingly threw the blades of grass at him. "Witches _and_ Muggle girls."

"I will not have my honor questioned by someone who herself had naked photographs taken of her."

Althea leaned forward. "By you—that you destroyed…you did destroy them," she said—her eyes widening. "Sirius, you _did_ destroy them. I told you to destroy them."

Sirius folded his arms. "Just because you tell me to do something, doesn't mean I'll do it." He sighed happily as he looked over her head. "They were such beautiful photographs of you, too. I couldn't destroy such beautiful photographs."

Althea grabbed his shirt. "Where are they now? Where are they? I'm a professor. I can't have naked photographs—

Sirius threw his head back and groaned. "Bloody hell, Morrigan, you really know how to ruin fun," he said and pried her fingers from his shirt. He reached into his pocket. "Here they are—well, one."

Sirius roughly placed the photograph in Althea's hand. _Good lord, look at me_, she thought as she gazed up on the photograph. _I was seventeen…the weekend I ran away from Gran_. The Althea in the photograph laughed and covered herself with the white cotton sheet—only her left eye mischievously peered out from underneath it. Suddenly, she flung the sheet away from her—continuing to laugh—reveling in the fact that she was with Sirius and he enjoyed her naked. Quickly, she had realized what a silly mistake it was for her to agree to such photographs, she had insisted that Sirius to destroy them, and thought he had, but obviously he had let a few remain.

She looked up from the photograph. "You carried this with you?"

Sirius awkwardly nodded.

She handed Sirius back the photograph. "Why did you keep it?"

He shrugged and looked down at the photograph. "It reminded me of why I had to come home…of what I was fighting for."

"Oh, come off it."

"It brought me back to you, didn't it? After every fight?"

"Stop trying to justify that you looked at photographs of a naked me when we weren't together."

"If I recall, we were together a few times after our breakup. You were very much naked then, too," he said and smiled impishly. "I believe you have sketches of me, naked."

"That's art."

"And this isn't?" he asked and showed her the photograph once more. The naked Althea sat up and smiled. "I never showed them to anyone."

"Really?"

"Who would I show them to? Anyway, you kept naked sketches of me. Why didn't you throw those away after our breakup?" he asked as he leaned forward.

Althea opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it and frowned.

Sirius smiled. "Right."

"They're _not_ sexual—"

"Neither are those photographs. Look—look," he said and pointed to the photograph, "you've covered yourself and are giggling. It's innocent."

Althea sighed as she opened the _Daily Prophet_. "Again, stop trying to justify that you enjoyed looking at naked photographs of me for your carnal amusement after our breakup."

Althea hid behind the _Prophet_ and fought a smile as Sirius huffed. "_Carnal amusement_? This bloody schoolteacher job's gone to your head," he remarked. "What did you use those sketches for?"

"I had forgotten I owned them—"

"Right, wanted to partake in _carnal amusements_ circa 1822."

"Be reasonable."

"We weren't even really broken up, were we? I lost count the number of times I woke up in your bed or you woke up in mine. Never took much to get you in there anyway."

"As if you weren't gagging for it," she muttered, scanning the second page. "You're not on the front page anymore," she said and sighed—hopeful he would take the cue to change the subject. "Not even the second—did you bother to read this?"

"No, it's all the same—I'm dark and dangerous. I did like the article where the mother refused to let her twenty-something daughter out of the house for fear that I would corrupt her."

"You would."

"Did you _see_ the photograph of the daughter? I have my standards, my image and good name to maintain."

"You really enjoy this, don't you?"

"Well some of it. I don't enjoy the dark bits, but I do enjoy the dangerous."

Althea let out a small, knowing laugh. "The Ministry believes you're in Albania now."

"I'm in Bermuda, you waste of print," he said and sighed as he reclined against the blanket. "The _Prophet_ was never much of a read, was it?"

"No," she said and turned the page to read the rest of the article about Sirius. "It's the _Witch Weekly_ of newspapers."

"Indeed."

Althea looked over the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. "Why is it always a woman?"

"A what?"

"A woman," she said and lowered the newspaper. "It's always a woman that sees you."

Sirius placed his hands behind his head and smiled slowly. "Is she—"

"Unfortunately, yes," she said and narrowed her eyes at the young, voluptuous woman who blew kisses and winked in the photograph. "I reckon she wants a contract with some wizard's magazine. She can't even name the town—this search is pathetic."

"One Ministry blunder after another," he said and sighed happily.

Althea returned to the _Prophet_.Her eyes flickered to the adjacent article—she spotted Sirius's name. _Bloody hell_, she thought—a knot quickly developed in her stomach. _'Is Your Child Safe?' an article by that awful Skeeter. _The knot in her stomach enlarged as she read the inflammatory article about Dumbledore and the lack of security at Hogwarts: 

_Did the most dangerous and villainous of men, Sirius Black, have help? Sources close in the matter agree that the murderous madman, second in command to You-Know-Who, did indeed have inside help. The question concerned parents must ask themselves is, "Who?" Dumbledore's secrecy in the matter is fueling claims that he is protecting the person in question…._

"You haven't made a remark about the _Prophet _in the past ten minutes."

Althea dismissively waved her hand as she continued to read the article.

"Something has your attention," he said and leaned close to her. "So, _this_ is what the _Prophet _chose to write about?" he remarked—the back of his head blocked her view of the newspaper. "The Wizarding world is in bated breath about my love life?"

She pushed Sirius's head out of the way. "This harpy," she said and the back of her hand slapped against the _Prophet_,"is petitioning for the documents to be made public."

"What documents?"

"All documents relating to your capture were sealed-"

"And you're afraid if this petition works, she'll discover you," he finished and grabbed the newspaper from her.

"Partly," she said and made a weak attempt to retrieve it.

Sirius pulled the newspaper toward him and frowned as he read.

"I'm afraid she'll discover Prudence…if you read further, you'll discover she's planning to write a book."

"A book?"

Althea nodded as she sat closer to him. "She'll discover it all," she said, trembling slightly. "She could discover that Prudence didn't die."

"I doubt she'd discover that, my love," he said and turned the page. "She'll focus on my family anyway—Muggle hunting, Ministry bribery, and the tragic rise and fall from power."

"You're right," she said and sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I shouldn't let that harpy bother me, but I do worry she'll discover Remus' secret."

"It's still a secret? I would've thought—"

"Dumbledore kept it from some of the staff—well, those that did not already know," she said and screwed her eyes up in thought, "which were quite a few, actually. We thought Hogwarts was to be permanent."

"Unfortunately, many of the children at Hogwarts are well connected…as Remus is rediscovering."

Althea shook her head. "I never thought Snape would stoop so low. I reckon I had forgotten how far Snape would go to ruin someone."

"I've never forgotten," he muttered and sighed. "You think she'd blame Remus for the security breaches, then?"

"Of course. The Wizarding world loves a good, scary werewolf story," she said and noticed a small crease had developed between Sirius's eyebrows. "What?"

"'A source within the Ministry revealed that a young woman was interviewed at the time of Black's arrest—'"

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she muttered and covered her face with her hands.

"'She vanished shortly after the interview. Who was this young woman? Why did she vanish? Did she know too much? Was she murdered?' Who cares?"

"Her insipid readers care," she said, letting her hands drop to her sides. "She's a bloody nuisance."

"Indeed," Sirius agreed and kissed her cheek. "Although, I doubt she's referring to you. Didn't a horde of women come forth to tell their tales of woe?"

"Still," she began, frowning slightly at Sirius's lighthearted response to the situation, "it seems more than coincidence."

"I wouldn't worry—"

"Skeeter will try everything to get those files—"

Sirius tossed the newspaper onto the grass and, with a point of his wand, bright blue flames consumed it. He thoughtfully looked at Althea as he asked, "Would you like me to scare her?"

"No," she answered, her lips upturned into a smile, "she'd wet herself from excitement at the story."

* * *

"God, how I missed this," Sirius said and kissed the nape of Althea's neck.

Althea inhaled deeply and smiled. "I reckon you're remembering another woman," she said, reclining against his chest. "I don't believe we ever shared a bath."

"Yes, we did," he replied and wrapped his wet arms around her. "The Prefect Bathroom."

"If I remember, it wasn't very romantic and I wasn't naked."

"I could still see your tits through your soaked blouse," he said, his fingertips faintly tracing small circles onto her stomach. "That counted for something."

Althea laughed quietly as she placed her arms over his. "For a fifteen-year-old boy it counted a great deal," she said and closed her eyes. "A great deal, indeed."

Sirius leaned forward. "This has been a perfect day," he whispered and Althea smiled as his moist breath warmed her ear.

"Mhmm."

"Unfortunately, your Gran will ruin it," he said and reclined against the back of the bathtub. "What time will that old woman arrive?"

Althea frowned slightly. "Nine, I think. Gran is paranoid someone will see her flying on her broom if she arrives earlier."

"She uses a broom?"

Althea opened her eyes and nodded. "Only when it is absolutely necessary."

"Still," he began and she felt him quietly chuckle, "I never thought of her as the sort of woman who—"

Althea laughed lowly. "Don't you dare say it, Sirius—"

"What?" he asked with mock innocence, as Althea's laughter grew louder. "I never thought of her as the sort of woman who would allow a stick between her—"

"Althea Rosemary!"

Wide-eyed, Althea gasped and sat up straight—splashing large amounts of bathwater onto the floor. _Bloody hell_, she thought as she struggled to stand. _It isn't nine yet. I'm not dressed! She'll come up here, I know it_!

Sirius growled and slammed his hand against the side of the tub. "That bloody old woman!"

"Sirius, please!" she scolded as she gingerly stepped out of her bathtub.

Careful not to slip in the puddles, Althea exited her bathroom and frantically searched her cupboard for an appropriate dress. _Where is that blasted dress_, she thought as she roughly spread the hangers apart. _Too short…a tit will pop out if I wore that…bloody hell, Afina! Didn't you design a dress appropriate for Gran_?

"Althea Rosemary!"

"Bloody hell!" she muttered as she tossed a light blue frock onto the floor.

"Bloody insistent, isn't she?" Sirius said, folding his arms as he stood in the doorway.

Althea pulled the purple sundress over her head. "Put some clothes on," she whispered heatedly as she tugged the sundress into place.

"Auntie?"

"Do it now," she commanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Althea _Rosemary_!"

Sirius defiantly stood in the doorway with his arms folded. "No, I'd rather her see me in all my naked glory. She does have that habit, you know, of barging in when I'm naked. I reckon she likes it."

Althea stepped into her most conservative pair of knickers. "Fine, then," she said, adjusting her sundress. "Stay naked, but transform. You know what that old woman is capable of."

"Unfortunately," he muttered and took Althea in his arms as she attempted to walk by him. "Whatever that old woman says, you look so very beautiful," he said and kissed her cheek.

"Promise me you won't bite her."

"I promise," he said, letting her go. "I might growl at her, though."

Althea left her bedroom and hurriedly walked the hallway toward the steps. There, at the bottom of the steps were Gran—the annoyance at waiting apparent—and Afina, who was smiling up at Althea. Althea smiled at Afina and rushed down the steps to greet her.

"I'm so very sorry," Althea said, as she hugged Afina. "I had a swim earlier and I was covered in sand."

Afina pulled away from Althea and inspected her. "I really love that dress on you," she said, her brown eyes continued to take in every detail of Althea. "I really, really do."

"Althea Rosemary."

Althea cringed as she looked at Gran. "Hello, Gran," she said and placed her palm on her abdomen to soothe away that uneasy pang that had developed in her stomach. "A good flight?"

"Yes, of course," she said, still standing quite rigid. "What one would expect from a broom, I suppose."

Althea smiled weakly. "Good, well, I'll charm your trunks upstairs, then—"

"No need, I'll charm them," Gran said, and tapped her wand against her trunk. "Afina will help me."

"Right," Althea breathed and rolled her eyes at Afina.

Afina winked. "You can charm mine, Auntie," she said and looked upstairs. She laughed. "Good God, what is that?"

"What?" Althea turned to see Sirius—transformed—bounding down the stairs toward the trio. "Bloody hell," she murmured.

"I had no idea that you had a dog," Afina said, kneeling to pet Sirius. "At least of all a dog this size."

Sirius barked happily and wagged his tail as Afina cooed and told him what a good and clever dog he was.

"Afina, it'll go to his head," Althea said, unable to suppress a smile.

"Nonsense." With a concerned face, she looked up at Althea and asked, "You didn't name him one of those awful names, did you?"

"No, no," Althea said somewhat awkwardly—feeling her face flush. "I haven't named him yet."

"That is a hideous looking dog," Gran said at which Althea caught her breath.

Althea looked to Sirius who had stopped wagging his tale. _Don't you dare bite her_, she thought as he started to growl lowly. Sirius stepped between Gran and Althea and continued to growl—Althea placed her hand on his head to remind him of their promise, but she was sure Sirius had forgotten.

"I'm sorry," she said, stroking the top of his head. "He's very protective and loyal."

"More like deranged," Gran said, eyeing the dog warily. "Get him away from me."

"Right. Come on, then," she said to the dog, but he did not move. "_Come on_."

Reluctantly, Sirius turned toward the staircase and followed Althea into her childhood bedroom. He leapt onto her bed and transformed.

"I've already had enough of her," Sirius said and, with a flick of his wand, he closed the door.

"It will only be for a few days," she said as she levitated the trunk to the foot of the bed. "Thank you, for wearing a shirt and trousers."

Sirius shrugged. "It will take all of my strength not to transform and tell her what an awful old woman she is," he said and bit the inside of his cheek. "Hideous? Deranged? I'll show her what—"

"You will certainly not," she said and the trunk landed with a loud _thud_. "Please, for my sake, don't _do_ anything."

"Only if you hold her to the same standard, that cold-hearted—"

"_Sirius_!" she warned, narrowing her eyes. "Don't you dare say or do anything to her. You are a dog and will remain a dog for the next few days, right?"

"Why must my Animagus shape be so damn convenient?"

"Because if it weren't, you couldn't spend your time with me while Gran and Afina are here," she said, slipping her wand into her skirt pocket.

"Silencing Charms—"

"And Afina would grow curious as to why I spend all my time in my bedroom—"

Sirius leaned forward. "There are twenty-some rooms—"

"Auntie?" Afina yelled—her footsteps growing louder and closer to the door.

Althea gasped and frantically motioned for Sirius to transform. Sirius folded his arms and looked darkly at the door.

"Yes, Afina," Althea said loudly, and she prayed Afina did not recognize the anxiousness in her voice. "Do it, transform now," she whispered pleadingly.

Sirius sneered.

"Please," she begged, her eyes widening.

Sirius sighed dejectedly—his eyes transfixed upon the door—and transformed.

Afina entered the room and flung herself onto the bed. "Will you be sleeping in my bed tonight?" she asked the dog as she scratched him behind his ears. "Will you?"

Althea narrowed her eyes at Sirius's wagging tail. "He'll sleep outside," she replied, and both Afina and Sirius turned to look at her. "I reckon Gran wouldn't want him in the house."

"Oh, don't be silly," Afina said, roughly rubbing Sirius's back. "We'll just lock Gran up in her bedroom while she's here."

Sirius barked happily.

Althea leaned against the bedpost. "I wish we could," she muttered and held out her hand for Sirius, but he was too occupied with Afina. "Had enough of Gran?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Oh God, yes," she answered, flinging herself back onto the bed. "At least she approves of Bacchus," she continued, staring up at the crisp white canopy. "Unlike the sort you brought home," she said impersonating Gran.

"Indeed, like Remus," she said and smiled as the impish smirk on Afina's face faded.

"I did not tell her," Afina said, her eyes widening. "She's a bloody Legilimens, I swear to you."

"Oh right," she said and winked.

Afina quickly sat up. "I swear to you, I didn't tell her that you shagged him. I said that you dated him and if she deduced from that, that you slept together," she said and folded her arms, "well, it's not my fault."

"According to her letter, it sounded as if Remus and I shagged atop the Head Table for all to see," she teased.

Afina gasped and pointed excitedly at Althea. "What's that?"

Althea stepped back and looked around her. "What?" she said, frowning slightly.

"Around your neck," she replied, leaning forward over Sirius to get a closer look.

Althea blushed furiously as she realized she wore the necklace Sirius gave her. She instinctively brought her hand to the necklace to shield it from Afina. _Oh God, now the questions_, she thought as Afina with eager curiosity looked upon the necklace. Afina batted Althea's hand away and Althea stood there embarrassingly exposed.

"At least a carat," she said, taking the necklace into her hands. Althea felt increasingly hot. "Who would buy my Auntie this sort of thing?" she wondered aloud and whistled as the diamond caught the sunlight. "Remus didn't buy you this—he can't afford it. Leif didn't, either. He doesn't have that good taste—in _jewelry_, Auntie."

Althea let out a shaky breath. "Then who bought it for me?"

"Obviously someone who can afford it," she answered, her eyes fixed on the stone. "You're hemorrhaging men now, aren't you?"

Althea quickly pulled away. "Hemorrhaging men?" she repeated and laughed awkwardly.

Afina reclined onto the bed and rested on her elbows. "It must be the third bloke this summer—"

"Well, when one goes from such a dry spell—"

"More like the bloody Sahara—"

"When one goes from such a dry spell," Althea said, talking over Afina, "it must seem that way."

"Who is he?"

"Actually, I'm not dating anyone," she said over Sirius's barking, and Afina frowned. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I bought this in town."

"A likely story. Oh, shut it, you silly dog!" she said and laughingly rubbed his back. "I have something for you, Auntie. Something you might be interested in."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"It's in my trunk," she said, standing.

Althea sat next to Sirius on the bed and watched as Afina opened her trunk. Soon, Afina was waist deep in her trunk. Expensive fabrics, sketchbooks, and toiletries soon littered the floor.

"Are you sure it's in there?" Althea teased as Afina continued to mutter and throw her clothing about.

"Yes, I'm very sure," she said and made a noise of triumph. "Here," she said and handed it to Althea.

Althea looked to her hands and noticed it was a pink and lavender colored pamphlet with a smiling witch and baby on the cover. _Oh Afina, really_, she thought as she read the cover—_The Salem Witches Health and Fertility Center_. Althea cringed as she opened the pamphlet and looked upon the services offered. _'Offering new and innovative reproductive treatment options, our compassionate and caring staff'—they're always caring and compassionate, aren't they_, she thought as she read about the staff ensuring comfort and privacy. _'Board certified Healers and Midwives'…oh look, a fellowship at Nonnatus—my credentials are humble compared to yours, Healer Fox, FASHA, FAAHW, FAMWA, and how could I forget, FAAHM. Good Lord, she's a Muggle physician as well_.

"It's Bacchus's mum," Afina said as she stood. "It's her center."

Althea closed the pamphlet and held it in her lap. "I reckon you told her all about me, then?"

Afina nodded.

"Oh Afina," Althea sighed sadly. "I've tried everything—really I have. Healers, Midwives, Muggle physicians—all of them have told me the same: I can't have children."

"It was over five years ago—things change," she said and took the pamphlet from Althea's hands. She opened it to the fourth page. "Look," she said and pointed to the heading, "this center specializes in curses."

She handed the pamphlet back to Althea. Althea read the short description and frowned. Afina's insistence made her uncomfortable.

"I've read this before," she said and closed the pamphlet. "A new treatment, a new promise, and when I'm examined, I'm told what I've been told for almost thirteen years."

A crease developed between Afina's eyebrows. "I know, Auntie, but this works," she said as Althea stood from the bed. "She's treated witches from the war."

"The other places treated them as well," Althea said, tossing the pamphlet on the bed. "Fantastic results—a child within the first month of treatment."

"Auntie," Afina said, grabbing the pamphlet, "she's not like that."

"I'm sure she's not," Althea said and exited the bedroom.

Althea heard Afina's quick steps behind her and rolled her eyes in frustration. _I don't want to discuss this anymore_, she thought and glanced toward Sirius at her side. _He hasn't lived through this. I don't want him to think that this would work—that there is some hope—and then when he realizes it won't_….

"Auntie, please! Please, listen!" Afina begged as Althea continued down the hallway. "Just hear what I have to say, please?"

Althea turned to face Afina. "Right," she said and nodded for her to enter Althea's bedroom.

Afina smiled weakly.

Althea sat on her bed. "Say your bit and be done with it," she said and Sirius cuddled next to her.

Afina huffed and placed her hands on her hips. "My bit? _My bit_?" she said, and she started to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Who took me in when I had no one? You did. Who never judged me—no matter how awful I could be? You. Who encouraged me to pursue fashion? Who has been at every show? You. Who would spend late nights in the cook's kitchen with me as I told her of my silly teenage problems? You. Did I spend the entire night with Gran and a large carton of ice cream after my first broken heart? No, I spent that night _with you_. Hell, you looked after me after my first hangover."

"You were sick all over Lady Applewood's seventeenth century Persian rug," Althea said, fighting an appreciative smile. "I had to cover for you."

Afina sat at the foot of the bed and looked thoughtfully at Althea. "You're great with children," she said and pushed the pamphlet forward. "You deserve to be a mother."

"Straight away?"

Afina shook her head. "Whenever you want to be," she said and reached out to pet Sirius. "It's horribly wrong someone took that from you. Talk with her—she's a remarkable woman. She won't lie to you, I swear."

Althea sighed and brought her knees to her chest. "I don't think I have the strength to hear it once more," she said and, out of the corner of her eye, saw that Gran had entered the room. She felt a strange sense of relief upon seeing that old woman. "Gran," she said and reclined against her bed.

Althea heard Gran step forward. "Althea Rosemary, we have some business to attend to tomorrow—"

"Brilliant," Althea muttered and covered her face with her hands.

"They are matters that will require your immediate attention—"

"If they are about Northfield, sell it for all I care."

"We will certainly not sell Northfield. It is your ancestral home," Gran said and sat upon Althea's bed.

Althea lowered her hands. _Oh Gran, if only you knew what Sirius and I had done an hour or so before your arrival—I highly doubt you'd want to sit on this bed_, she thought, her lips trembling into a smile.

"No, it's about Prudence's trust," Gran said with slight apprehension. Althea sat up onto her elbows. "Five million pounds isn't enough?" she remarked with amazement.

"It isn't the money," she said, her expression grim. "They don't want her to have it."

"What?" Althea said, fully straightening up.

Afina gasped and Sirius lifted his head.

"It's not their money, is it?" Althea said angrily. "It's my damn money and I will do with it what I please." She growled and slammed her fist against the mattress. "I started that trust—it was part of the agreement!"

"I know," Gran said. "They're afraid Prudence will not be ready—"

"She'll be twenty-five when she receives it! It's not like she'll be seventeen," Althea said, leaning against the headboard. She let out a little gasp when she realized what the Parkers truly meant. "They don't want to tell her about me."

"Precisely."

Althea let out a hollow laugh. "They want to pay for her schooling as well?"

Gran nodded.

"I don't believe this," Althea said and shook her head. "One year at Hogwarts and they're afraid—"

"Prudence isn't returning to Hogwarts."

Althea leaned forward—her eyes wide. "What? They can't do that!" she yelled and ran her fingers through her hair. She felt small tears starting at the corners of her eyes. "No, no, she's so happy there! What happened? Mrs. Parker—she sent a letter and it said that one day Prudence would know. She sent photographs!"

"I don't know what happened," Gran said, furrowing her brow. "We'll make it right. An agreement was made and they cannot forsake it now."

Althea looked ahead of her. "God, if I did anything," she said and wiped her eyes. Sirius rested his head in her lap and started to whimper.

"Auntie, I'm sure all will come right," Afina said and placed her hand on Althea's shoulder.

"They know I'm at Hogwarts," she said, removing Afina's hand. "I don't understand—"

"We'll sort it out," Afina said and looked toward Gran. "Won't we?"

Gran nodded. "Of course."

Afina forced a smile through her concern. "She sent photographs?"

Althea nodded. She crawled across her bed to her nightstand. She took the picture frame in her hands and looked upon the happy pair. _Neither of us will stay at Hogwarts this year_, she thought as Prudence smiled. _It's not fair to keep you away. You're so happy there—I promise I will do everything to keep you there_.

"Here," Althea said and presented Gran with the picture frame. "In my office."

Gran tightly held the picture frame. "I'll never forgive Dumbledore," she said as her eyes eagerly took in the pair. Althea thought she saw Gran's eyes glisten with tears. "He took such a beautiful girl away from us."

"I can't see, Gran," Afina said, peering over Gran's shoulder. Gran held the picture frame for Afina to see. "It's uncanny, isn't it?"

Gran nodded. "Very similar to Althea Rosemary at that age," she said, her fingers touching the glass. "How could anyone not see?"

"I kept my distance at Hogwarts—"

"But she found you," Gran said, staring into Althea's eyes.

"Somewhat," Althea replied, uneasy. "When I was pregnant, I didn't tell too many people. Pregnant witches were targets. No one knew outside of our circle…McGonagall didn't know."

"As if she cared to know," Gran muttered, her eyes transfixed on the photograph.

Afina squinted at the photograph. "Who do you think Prudence looks like, Auntie?"

Althea reclaimed the picture frame from a reluctant Gran. She chewed her bottom lip as Prudence posed. "I see a mixture—some days I see more of myself and others I see…." She laughed quietly with surprise as Prudence with a slight smirk stood next to Althea. "George."

"George?" Afina said and grabbed the picture frame. She held the picture frame close to her face and wrinkled her nose. "It's the eyes," she said and handed the picture frame back to Althea.

Althea looked at the photograph once more. "No, it was her smirk—like George's portrait," she said and focused her attention on Prudence's eyes. "No, she has Sirius's eyes. I'm sure of it."

"Please, do not mention that foul boy's name," Gran said, her lips pale.

"He's her father," Althea said, stiffening. "He is an innocent man."

"You're not thinking of taking him back," Gran said, her eyes narrowed at Althea.

"Of course, not," Althea sighed.

_I have taken him back, old woman_, she thought as Gran sized up Althea's determination. Sirius rested his head and paws on her lap. _He's here, in this very room, too_.

Afina stretched and reclined against the bed. "I read that he's in Albania now," she said, propping her head upon her bent arm.

Althea grinned. "See, far away from Bermuda or England. He's too busy dodging the Ministry to search for me. He believes I'm dead and I'd like it to remain that way," she said, stroking the top of Sirius's head. "Do you really think he'd want to reunite with me? Imagine, learning that I let him rot in Azkaban."

"True," Afina said.

"Anyway, half the fun of dating Sirius was to annoy Gran," she said and looked down to Sirius. She scratched him behind the ears and fought the bubbling laughter inside her as Sirius happily wagged his tail. "I've moved beyond that stage now."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter 18**

"Bloody brilliant," Althea muttered, her eyes transfixed upon the grass at her feet. "Bloody brilliant."

_I could've used this as leverage against the Parkers_, she thought, aware of the rose bushes in her path. She sighed and turned—usually pacing in the rose garden cleared her head, but the sweet fragrance of the roses heightened in the midday heat and humidity did not quell her thoughts. _They would have no reason to keep her from Hogwarts, but now…fucking brilliant_!

"Owl Dumbledore," Sirius said quietly.

"It's too late," she replied, clasping her hands behind her back—the letter from Dumbledore still tightly held in them.

"Write to him about Prudence—"

Althea quickly turned to face Sirius. "He used her against me in his letter," she said, unclasping her hands. "'How could I miss this opportunity to be close to my daughter'—bollocks."

Sirius sat with one leg outstretched upon the ground and muttered something Althea could not comprehend.

"I could've used this as leverage…she could've returned to Hogwarts," she said and resumed pacing. "God, what have I done?"

"You've done nothing," he said. "If anyone is to blame, it's me. I remember my mother was keenly aware of what I did—well, most of it, at least. Prudence receives the _Prophet_, right?"

"Sirius, I wrote to them about your innocence. You have nothing—"

"It doesn't matter. They read her newspapers—they seem like the type to check up on her," he said and laughed hollowly. "According to the papers, I'm not the most suitable of fatherly influences."

Althea gasped and brought her hand to mouth. "You're right," she said and slapped the hand with letter against her thigh. "Why couldn't I see it before? God, I'm so bloody stupid!" she said and stomped her foot against the grass. "An ex-convict, a werewolf, Afina's lifestyle…_I'm_ the bad influence," she said, placing her hand on her chest. "Who would want their daughter to associate with _me_?"

"Althea—"

"No, it's true," she said and started to pace again. "Just imagine if she discovered Northfield—discovered our set. It doesn't matter if I loathe them, but the Parkers have surely read the papers and have concluded that we're all alike: three last names and more money than we know what to do with—"

"No, they're afraid I'll break into Hogwarts again. That I'll abduct her. You made that agreement with the Parkers, I didn't…that's what they're afraid of."

"No, no," she said and soothingly massaged her upper arms, "they're afraid she'll end up in the _News of the World_." Althea's eyes widened. "I was in the _News of the World_."

Althea's mind quickly flashed to images of her briefly tabloid-documented escapades of the early eighties: drunkenly stumbling out of London clubs with Sophie, partying until the wee hours of the morning, and the infamous blurry pictures with John Harrington in his Aston Martin. _Oh God, John Harrington_, she thought—her face contorted into a mortified expression. _That awful nickname we had for him: Champagne, Cocaine, and Cock_. Althea vigorously rubbed her forehead. _I will deny those were my legs—how could I be identified in those blurry photographs by my legs_?

"My love, that's ridiculous—"

"It isn't," she interrupted and directed her gaze toward the house—Gran and Afina were still safely away in the sitting room. "They're afraid Prudence will be attracted to it. Do you even realize how many copies of _Witch Weekly_ I must confiscate each week during class? What young girl wouldn't be caught up in a world of _Tatler_ and _Hello!_ magazines?"

Sirius shrugged as he twirled a blade of grass between his finger and thumb.

"Look at me," she said, extending her arms. "Look around me—_this_ is not a home bought with a schoolteacher's wages—Northfield Hall, a house in London, I've never taken public transport—"

"You're a witch. You don't need to."

Althea frowned thoughtfully at Sirius. "It's not the point," she said and sat next to him. "I believe they're afraid I'll buy her affection…buy her back."

"Do you really believe," he began and slid his arm around her waist, "that Prudence would be attracted to that sort of thing?"

"No, but they're afraid she'll end up like me."

Althea rested her head on Sirius' shoulder and closed her eyes. She listened to the humming and buzzing about of the insects in her garden and the faint, gentle roar of the ocean. _This isn't fair_, she thought as Sirius's fingertips lightly stroked her bare back. _I know he wrote you as well…under no terms are you to return to England…can't guarantee safety…unable to defend you if you're caught_. Althea felt the muscles of her back tense. _He's forcing you to stay away—as if you wanted to return—and he's forcing me to return. Our agreement…would he really send me back to Azkaban_? Her first memory of that imposing fortress entered her mind—the thick bone-chilling mist, the perpetual dark grey sky, the black water sloshing against the boat, and the two dementors at her side. She shivered at the unnatural coldness she felt on this exceedingly warm day. Sirius shifted and Althea opened her eyes, which broke her from her memory.

"Auntie?" asked Afina as the footsteps on the gravel path grew louder.

Sirius quickly transformed and Althea stood. She smiled at Afina, who had stopped at the rosebush with the bright pink blossoms and buds.

"There's a special way to cut them," Althea said, walking toward Afina.

Afina frowned as she sniffed the large rose blossom. "You sounded like Gran."

"God forbid."

Afina sighed and swept a portion of her thick brown hair behind her ear. "Speaking of Gran, she requests your company."

Althea groaned. "When will it ever be on my terms?" she wondered aloud as Sirius's tail repeatedly hit her leg. She looked to Sirius as she said, "And what am I to do with you?"

"Don't worry," Afina answered, smiling as she knelt next to Sirius, "I'll keep him company."

Sirius barked and happily wagged his tail.

Althea narrowed her eyes at the pair. "Of course, you will," she muttered as Afina scratched Sirius behind the ears. Sirius's tail wagged frantically. Althea crouched next to him and in his ear, she whispered through gritted teeth, "_Behave_."

* * *

_I don't care_, Althea thought and threw her back against the couch. _I don't bloody care_. She sighed with exasperation and wondered how much longer Gran would talk about the missed fêtes, the polo matches, and the reminders to meet with her investors. Her eyes drifted from the pale coral walls with cream accents to the framed intricate watercolors of flora painted by her mother. She much preferred this sitting room to the one at Northfield; however, Gran's presence diminished the cheery, inviting atmosphere. She frowned at the sight of Afina and Sirius through the large paned windows—he was too enthusiastic in his chasing of Afina for her liking. _You're a grown man_, she thought—his teeth clamped upon a stick Afina held.

"It would have been excellent exposure and brought more on board for the charity ball," Gran said and Althea could not help but make a face. "You do remember the charity ball?"

"Yes, yes," she sighed, mesmerized by her ceiling. "In late October."

"Are you sure about the theme?"

"Who wouldn't love a fancy dress party?" she said, sure they had his conversation countless times before. "I'll dress as a witch."

"Oh, Althea Rosemary," Gran said and Althea faintly smiled at her disapproval. "You will do no such thing. Let the Muggles dress as witches and wizards."

"Of course," she murmured.

_I'll have Afina design the most outrageous gown_, she thought as Gran continued to ramble about more appropriate costume choices. _How could Gran object to a sixteenth century witch's costume_? Gran's objections were focused upon the nature of the boring cliché, and not on Althea's true intention to mimic one of Sirius's most dubious ancestors. Lucy Black—the first witch magically removed from the family tree for daring to elope with a Muggle marquess—seemed an appropriate choice…even if Sirius or Gran (who were not yet privy to Althea's intention) did not agree.

"Althea Rosemary, are you listening?"

Althea lifted her head and nodded.

"Good," she said and shuffled through papers in her lap. "You cannot forget your Muggle duty."

"Of course, I can't," she muttered, folding her arms. "I'm just not interested in that set."

"At least show some interest in them at the charity ball," Gran said as she unfolded a thick stack of papers. "Here, they are," she said, scanning the papers. "A documentary filmmaker has expressed interest in filming the gardens at Northfield."

"So?"

Gran leaned forward and handed the papers to Althea. Althea frowned as she looked at them. _It's a bloody release form_, she thought as she quickly tired of reading the legal stipulations. _All this to film our gardens_?

"It would include a small piece on the family."

Althea looked up at Gran. "Do I have to be in it?" she asked and wrinkled her nose.

"It was hoped."

Althea sighed as she handed Gran the papers. "You should do this sort of thing," she said—she was sure the filmmaker would bring up her wild past. "You care more about this stuff, anyway."

"He specifically asked for you, Althea Rosemary."

"Brilliant," she muttered, folding her arms. "Anyway, all the houses look the same on the inside—old drapery with even older paintings of dead relatives. He'll probably die of boredom or tweed before he films Northfield."

"Ours is to be the second house filmed—"

"Fantastic," she said and massaged her temple. "When is filming so I can prepare myself?"

_And Obliviate the bastard from mentioning my past_, she thought, her hand heavily hitting the sofa.

"Next summer."

"How many others are in on this project?"

"If you mean Sophie, yes Sophie is in on the project," she answered and frowned at Althea. "What was that owl post about? You are very distracted."

Althea was about to tell Gran of Dumbledore's letter when Afina's screams and laughter could be heard—along with Sirius's barking—approaching the sitting room door. Afina burst into the sitting room with Sirius at her heels. _Oh dear God_, Althea thought as Sirius brushed against the eighteenth century Bermuda cedar side table—his tail precariously close to the equally antique vase filled full of orange and pink roses. Althea quickly looked to Gran. She was rigid—obviously mortified by such a shocking display—and narrowed her eyes at Althea. Althea gulped.

"Afina—Afina, sweetie—please," Althea implored, sitting higher on the sofa.

However, Afina did not listen and leapt over Althea's feet—Sirius quickly followed her.

"Enough!"

In one swift movement, thick gold cords wrapped around Sirius's neck and transformed into a collar and leash. Sirius yelped—his eyes wide.

"Is this necessary?" Althea asked as Gran floated a growling Sirius—attempting to paw off the collar—toward the door.

"It is absolutely necessary," she replied and tied him to the doorknob. "Where did you find such an unruly dog?"

"He found me," she said, and she bit her lip to stifle her laughter as Sirius rolled onto his back.

Afina threw herself onto the sofa and heaved a pleasant sigh. "We didn't break anything, did we?" she asked, smoothing the hair away from her face.

"No," Althea said as Sirius growled. "I'm surprised she didn't do that to you as well."

Afina turned her head toward the door. "Oh, that's awful," she laughed.

"Althea Rosemary, the owl post?" Gran reminded.

"Oh, right," Althea murmured and cleared her throat. "I had quit Hogwarts."

Afina gasped.

Gran frowned. "You had an agreement."

"And I'd very much like that agreement to be over," she said and folded her arms. She gently hit her heel against the floor. "He wouldn't let me quit, resorted to blackmailing me with Prudence."

Afina placed her arm on Althea's shoulder.

Althea threw her head back and groaned. "I am not looking forward to another year in that drafty castle!"

"You never know," Afina said conspiratorially, "there could be another basilisk."

Althea quickly lifted her head. "I hope not!"

"I presume Dumbledore will take extra precautions to protect Hogwarts from—"

"Sirius," Althea interrupted, smiling slightly as Gran's eye twitched. "No, of course not. The entire year, dementors guarded Hogwarts, but nothing would stop him. He was right at home, it felt like bloody Azkaban."

Gran's blue eyes looked over her spectacles. "You will insist Dumbledore provides you with more protection," she demanded. "He cannot know that you are alive."

"As if Sirius would care," she said and realized where the conversation would lead. Sirius started to whine and to scratch at the doorknob. "He's probably in some cave somewhere, too preoccupied with staying a step ahead of the Ministry to investigate otherwise."

"He'll need all the friends he can get," Afina said, curling up on the sofa. "Remus—"

"_Remus_ is busy searching for employment," she interrupted and looked to her sandaled feet. "Why would you both think…after almost thirteen years?" she wondered and shook her head. "Did you not _see_ that prison photograph?"

"Unfortunately," Afina sneered. "He's started a trend among the young American wizards and witches. It's called 'Azkaban Chic', and it's in all the magazines. It's bloody wretched, if you ask me."

"He'll be so bloody pleased with himself," Althea said, attempting to fake disgust, but amused at Afina's loathing of tasteless fashion. "But be reasonable, you've _seen_ that photograph. Could you imagine, night after night, staring up at the face of death?"

Afina jokingly gasped and laughed at the remark to shock Gran. Althea smirked as she stood. _Not even a disapproving, 'Althea Rosemary'_, she thought as she untied the leash from the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" Afina asked as her giggling quieted.

"I reckon he'll stop if he's outside," she said and nodded toward the door.

"Indeed, take that blasted beast outside," Gran said, throwing up her hands, "before he ruins anything else."

Once outside the sitting room, Althea let go of the leash and Sirius raced through the entrance hall, behind the staircase, and to the hall that lead to the kitchen. _He'll either bite her or hex her if he has the chance_, she thought as she entered the kitchen.

Sirius strode to meet her. "Look at what that horrible woman did to me!" he said, pointing to the collar. "How utterly humiliating!"

Althea started to giggle and Sirius's nostrils flared. "Oh come on," she said, placing her palms on his chest. "I did that to you as well."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "_Once_," he said, removing her hands from him, "and we were dead pissed!"

Sirius reached for the collar and growled as he wrestled with it. Althea stepped forward to help him, but Sirius refused with a murderous glare. Finally, after snarling a flurry of expletives, he removed the collar, and with a maniacal gleam of triumph, he threw them on the floor.

"_Conflare_!"

Sirius grinned as the collar and leash leapt from the floor and disintegrated.

"A bit much," she remarked, folding her arms. "Maybe you need a collar."

"What?" he questioned—red sparks flickered from his wand. "How dare—"

"How dare you wag your tail at Afina's request that you sleep in her bed," she interrupted, playfully narrowing her eyes. "Chasing her about the sitting room…shameful behavior from a grown man."

Sirius's head jolted back and floundered for words.

"Indeed," she replied, finding it very difficult to maintain her stern demeanor. "Wagging your tail in the rose garden—"

"It's a bloody reflex!"

"Right, Sirius."

"It _is_!" he pleaded and ran his fingers through his hair—his look was desperate. "She scratched me behind my ears—I can't help if others find me a loveable dog! I swear to you," he continued and took her hands in his, "it is a reflex. James never let me forget the time I wagged my tail at McGonagall."

Althea removed her hands and mockingly shuddered. "You'd get it anyway you could, didn't you?"

"Well, maybe I should," he said and leaned against the kitchen worktop, "because I obviously repulse you."

"What are you talking about?"

Sirius studied her for a moment and bit the inside of his cheek. "'Staring up at the face of death'?" he reminded and folded his arms. "Staring at the headboard, more like it. Do you prefer it that way because you don't have to look at me?"

Althea leaned against the kitchen worktop. "It was a joke," she said and rested her hands against the cool granite.

"At my expense."

_Is he having a laugh_, she wondered, cocking her head to side as she observed Sirius. The conversation with Gran and Afina was the first time Althea had remarked disparagingly about the loss of Sirius's good looks. He sullenly gazed at the floor.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, slipping off her sandal. "I didn't mean anything by it, you know that," she explained, her foot gently touching the top of his bare foot. "They have to believe that I want nothing to do with you. I can't tell them that we're back together—"

"Maybe you should," he interrupted, pulling his foot away.

"Oh right—"

"How long are you willing to lie, Althea?" he asked and lifted himself from the worktop. "Months, maybe? Years?"

_I hadn't considered_, she thought and brushed a curl behind her ear. So caught up in the renewed relationship, the electric experience of it, she had forgotten her life—their lives—would continue outside of Bermuda. _How long could I refrain from Afina's matchmaking? I could always lie—that if Sirius saw a photograph in a newspaper or a magazine, he would find me_…_but how long would that last_?

"I can't remain a dog at your side as she degrades you," he said—his voice full of palpable bitterness. "She speaks to you as if you were a child!"

"She's all I've got—"

"And she's treated you so bloody well, hasn't she?" he retorted and sneered with disgust.

"What would you have me do?" she asked as Sirius walked toward the screened door. "Tell her now?"

"Forget it," he said, resting his hand on the door. "I'm going for a walk."

Althea watched as the screened door violently swung back and forth.

"Bloody brilliant," she muttered, loudly tapping her nails against the worktop.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter 19**

_They still haven't forgotten_, Althea thought, smirking as she determined the proper placing of the book on the shelf. _Five years. It's Michael's fault, really. I bought them a larger sailboat, too_. Despite Althea's expensive apology, the Blessingtons (once again) did not extend the well sought-after invitation to Althea, and although she would have enjoyed an afternoon excursion in a sailboat she personally chose, an afternoon without Gran and the increasingly meddlesome Afina was just as enjoyable. _And I'll spend my afternoon, reorganizing the study's book collection and not with my ankles above my head shagging Sirius_, she thought and sighed with mild disappointment.

"Pity, you weren't invited boating," Sirius said, his footsteps growing closer to Althea.

_Or I just might_, she thought, her lips curving into a smile.

"You're speaking with me today?" she remarked, placing _Nineteenth Century Muggle Morality_ between _A Critical Analysis of Victorian Wizarding Britain_ and _Tess Ingénue: Tale of a Fallen Witch_. "You were quite cross with me yesterday," she said, and she raised an eyebrow at Sirius, who slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. "I wonder, what could've changed your mind?"

Sirius nuzzled her neck and inhaled deeply. "They're gone," he murmured and kissed her shoulder.

"For the afternoon," she said and closed her eyes.

Sirius leisurely swept her hair off her shoulders, and she smiled at the cool, pleasant sensation of her naked neck. She sensed Sirius's lips and gently bit her bottom lip in anticipation. Sirius hesitated and laughed quietly, his moist breath warmed her skin. _I loathe when he does this_, she thought as her neck prickled with what felt like thousands of tiny electrical sparks. Suddenly, he kissed her with such force that she took a small step forward. Althea inhaled sharp breath and instinctively placed her hand at the back of his head, her fingertips gliding and grasping the smooth locks of hair. She relaxed and leaned against him, allowing herself to be consumed by the increasing pleasurable sensations radiating from her spine as Sirius' soft fingertips slid up her inner thigh. He paused and chuckled softly.

"Shameful," he murmured teasingly and tickled her bare skin.

Althea giggled and pushed herself away from him. She quickly turned and met him with a mischievous grin. Sirius smirked and, without hesitation, lifted her onto the bottom shelf of the bookcase. Althea's hand jutted out at her side to steady herself as the bookcase creaked and swayed under her weight—a book rattled in her right ear—she frowned

"What?" he muttered as he roughly hiked her dress up around her hips. "I'm aching for it."

"I reckon a bookcase isn't one of your best ideas."

"I don't care," he whispered heavily.

* * *

"Sit _still_," Althea demanded softly as she dabbed the potion-soaked cloth to the scrape above Sirius's left eye.

Sirius growled as he brought his hand to his face. "You bloody torturer!"

Althea sighed as she placed the cloth on the bathroom sink. "Be reasonable, I've healed worse," she said and removed his hand from his face. "I won't be able to heal it if I can't see it."

"Why?" he snorted and turned his face away from her. "You'll just laugh."

Althea fought a smile. "I promise I won't laugh—"

"Again."

"Again," she agreed and gently coaxed his face toward hers.

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek as Althea examined the grotesquely swollen purple skin surrounding his eye. _He looks absolutely pathetic_, she thought as she noted a rather large cut below his eye that would require a charm. Althea bit her lip as the laughter swelled up inside her again.

"Just heal it."

"Right," she sighed as Sirius did his best to look displeased. "It will sting," she added, holding her wand tip to the corner of his eye.

"I'm aware," he said, folding his arms. "I've had this happen before."

Althea smirked. "How many women have you shagged that have given you a black eye?"

"I meant _in battle_," he replied gruffly and winced as the swelling started to reduce.

"Well, it's the second time you've gotten a black eye during a shag with me," she said as the purple and blue bruise slowly faded. "You'll end up in St. Mungo's yet, my love."

"I'm not laughing."

"I'm aware," she teased and Sirius gave her a dark look. "Oh, come of it," she said as he continued to brood. "At least you—"

"Right, go ahead and say it."

Althea smirked. "At least you came," she remarked as she began to mend the cut below his eye. "Those books could've fallen earlier and you would've been angrier than you are now," she explained as she carefully dragged her wand across the wound. "That bookcase is over two hundred years old—you should be glad that just books fell. I would've had a hell of a time trying to explain to Gran and Afina why the bookcase was in pieces and I had splinters in my bum."

"Ha _ha_," he said flatly as Althea healed the last of the wound. "Just heal the bloody—"

"Oh, Auntie! Where are you?"

Althea jerked her wand, which caused Sirius to howl in pain. "Fuck!" she whispered, as her eyes grew wide.

Sirius growled and whined, bringing his hands to his face.

"Shut up! Shut up!" she demanded, panicked, as Sirius continued to curse. "Transform!"

"Oh, Auntie," Afina groaned as Althea heard her enter Althea's bedroom. "That awful sailboat! Do you have a charm or a potion—"

Althea caught her breath.

"—what is—"

Althea swiftly turned to face Afina, and in doing so, hoped to shield her from Sirius, who rocked back and forth with his hands over his nose—bright red blood seeping between his fingers. However, Althea immediately understood that her frenzied effort was in vain—what felt like ice water washed over her insides—as she looked upon Afina. Afina stood in the doorway—her lips had thinned and her eyes had narrowed—she ignored Althea and focused her glare upon the man behind her. Her hands trembled at her sides, and Althea warily watched as Afina's fingers stroked her wand pocket.

Althea slowly placed her wand on the bathroom sink. "It's—it's all right, sweetie," she said, her voice unnaturally high. "I'll—I'll explain. I know this looks awful, but—"

Afina was uneasily quiet.

"Don't—just please—don't say anything to Gran," Althea begged, stepping forward.

Afina took a step back—her eyes locked upon Sirius. "I wasn't about to," she muttered, in a voice that echoed her disbelief.

"Please—"

"He's bleeding everywhere," she added, nodding toward Sirius.

Althea released a shaky breath as turned toward Sirius—who stared, crestfallen, at the floor. The blood languidly traveled down Sirius's wrists. Althea sniffed loudly and blinked rapidly to stave off tears.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured as she looked into his eyes.

Sirius faintly shrugged.

She picked up her wand and looked to Afina. "I have to heal this," she said quietly. "Let me mend this and I'll explain everything, you."

"Do whatever you like," she answered, folding her arms. "My opinion means nothing."

Althea sighed sadly. "I'm so sorry, my darling. You deserve a proper explanation," she replied, aware of what was to come. "I'll join you on my bed shortly. I will explain everything, I swear it."

Afina did not respond, but turned and walked toward Althea's bed.

Althea gingerly lowered Sirius's hands and winced at the result of her misdirected spell. She directed her wand to the large bleeding wound and quietly began to heal it. _She'll never—it's over. It can't be undone_, she thought as Sirius looked ahead of him. _I know I've hurt her. God, what she must be thinking_!

"You have nothing to apologize for," he whispered as she healed the last of the wound.

"Shut it," she demanded and cast a charm to clean up the blood. "I have everything to apologize for. Did you see her face? God, what have I done?"

Sirius sat forward. "You've—"

"_No_," she interrupted and looked toward the bedroom. Afina, with her head bent, sat on Althea's bed. "You're not to leave the bath. You'll remain here, right?"

Sirius did not speak.

Althea entered her bedroom, and Afina's eyes deliberately watched every step. Afina's demeanor was intimidating, and Althea thought, reminded her much of Gran at her worst. Althea sat next to Afina and tightly clasped her hands in her lap. What could she possibly say to her? Afina, as a child, had witnessed Althea at her worst. Still, she loved Althea, and intrigued by Althea's brokenness and sporadic behavior of her childhood, questioned Gran, who fully told Afina of Sirius's betrayal. It surprised Althea that a teenager would have such wisdom to forgive and to understand the way in which Althea coped; however, she made it quite clear what she thought of Sirius and, despite the new knowledge his innocence, those wounds were very slow to heal. Evening talks with Remus—who she regarded as an uncle—would not sway her emotions. Sirius was guilty.

Althea opened her mouth to speak.

"Do not lie to me, Auntie, you're not _just friends_," Afina said—her dark brown eyes like slits—her piercing gaze transfixed on Althea.

Althea inhaled deeply.

"It's _Sirius Black_…the bloody legend."

Althea exhaled—her mind buzzed and hummed with the jumbled mess of explanations and apologies to Afina. "I didn't—"

But Afina disregarded Althea's weak attempt, "I didn't think you so stupid. I'd defended you against Gran." She smoothed her thick, brown hair off her face. "I'm a bloody fool."

Althea placed her hand upon Afina's arm. "No—"

"I want to curse him," she said in a voice so unnatural to Althea, as she ran her fingers through her thick brown hair. "I want him to beg for death, but I can't think of a curse suitable for him." She let out a growl as she tugged at the roots of her hair.

"Althea cast the Cruciatus Curse," Sirius said from the doorway.

Afina furiously leapt from the bed, drawing her wand.

Althea quickly followed and grasped Afina's wand arm. "Afina, don't—"

"Let go of me!" she growled, wrestling herself from Althea's grip. Althea stepped back as purple and green sparks flew from Afina's wand. "Don't you _dare_defend him!" she added and thrust the tip of her wand at his chest. "Or I will curse you too!"

Sirius did not look down at the wand pointed at his chest. "Afina has every right to curse me," Sirius explained—his voice very calm. "Go ahead."

Sirius's calm demeanor unnerved Althea. He stood with his arms at his sides—quite motionless—neither reaching for his wand nor sizing up Afina. Althea knew Afina was no match for Sirius' strength and dueling prowess—he could easily subdue her. _She was more into fashion that hexes_, Althea thought as Afina tightened her grip on her wand. _But he'll let her hex him…if that is what it takes_.

"Go on," Sirius said—his voice neither taunting nor condescending, "curse me."

Althea stood behind Afina. "Please, put down our wand," she said, placing her hand on Afina's shoulder. "I don't want two people that I love dueling."

Afina adjusted her grip. "He wouldn't have time—"

"Afina, please!" Althea begged. "Please listen to what I must say—"

Afina twirled around—her eyes flashed with fury. "Are you siding with _him_?" she asked, thrusting her wand in Sirius's direction. "After everything—I was there!" she continued, her voice breaking. "I saw you the way you were!"

Althea rested her arms on Afina's shoulders and coaxed her closer to her. "I'm not like that anymore," she said, her hands massaging her small shoulders. "Do you think that I willingly took him back? That _I_searched him out? Have you forgotten our conversation—"

Afina pushed Althea away. "You were obviously lying to me then!" she snapped, and laughed bitterly as she nodded toward Sirius. "You wasted no time finding him!"

"I wasn't—"

"You'll end up in Azkaban, right along side him!"

Althea gently shook her head. "I was tricked."

Afina snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh, right, Auntie. You're too clever and you're bloody sober—"

"I was tricked by Remus."

Afina's eyes widened.

"Yes, _Remus_," she said as Afina furrowed her brow. "They were here when I arrived. I couldn't hide—I had to face what needed to be done," she explained, looking over Afina to Sirius. His expression was somber. "It was by no means a happy reunion."

"What's all this?" she sneered, throwing up her arms. "He should be dead!"

"Afina, no…no," she said, shaking her head. "Feelings change—or rather, feelings that were never gone surfaced," she said, and stepped forward. "Afina, my darling, he's an innocent man—"

"It doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. "He hurt you!"

Althea slowly raised her hand to Afina's cheek. Afina did not retract. "Those were choices I made after the incident because I couldn't cope," she explained, looking into Afina's eyes full of hurt and betrayal. "Not because of losing him, _but because I lost Prudence_."

Althea caught her breath as the tears fell from Afina's eyes. "Auntie, no," she whispered. "You deserve better than—than _him_!"

"Afina!" Gran shouted from the hallway.

Althea felt herself collapse, and—wide-eyed—she grabbed the bedpost. Sirius rushed forward.

"Transform," she whispered as she sat upon the bed.

Without hesitation, Sirius transformed into his Animagus shape, and Althea swallowed at the recognition of their secret. Afina paled.

"Afina, dear?"

"Afina, don't—"

Afina roughly wiped her eyes and shouted, "Althea's bedroom, Gran!"

Althea let out a whimper.

"I will decide," she whispered through gritted teeth.

Gran entered and narrowed her eyes at the pair. "Good Lord, what is taking so long?"

Althea pleadingly looked to Afina. Afina looked away from Althea as she addressed Gran, "Althea found the potion for my seasickness, but after taking it, I feel just awful."

Althea exhaled. "I reckon it soured," she added, wrinkling her nose. "I'm very sorry."

Afina placed her trembling hand over her stomach. "I don't feel like continuing the tour," she said quietly. "Please tell the Blessingtons that I'm sorry."

Gran sighed disappointedly. "They will be very disappointed, but I am sure will understand," she replied and raised her eyebrow at Althea. "You will tend to her."

Althea nodded. "But of course."

Gran nodded her goodbye and exited the bedroom. _Gran would've killed him_, she thought as Afina sniffed. _I have no doubt_. Suddenly, Gran returned and Althea caught her breath.

She was frowning slightly. "Althea Rosemary?"

Althea licked her lips. "Yes, Gran?"

"The study?"

"What about it?"

Gran let out a huff. "It is in shambles. What happened?" she asked and Althea's stomach somersaulted. "All the books in the bookcase are in a pile upon the floor."

Out of the corner of her eye, Althea saw Afina's mouth open slightly. She pulled a face as she looked toward Sirius and Althea.

"I was reaching for a book…and that bookcase is so old…well, they fell," she explained, attempting to hide her nervousness. "I'm all right—nothing really—a scratch there, a bruise here."

Gran nodded once more. "Good," she said and glanced toward Afina. "You will clean it, I am sure."

Afina did not look up at Gran.

Althea held her breath for a few moments until she was certain Gran had left. When Gran did not return, she released it and allowed herself to fall back onto her bed. Althea felt Sirius transform next to her. She sat up and directed her attention to Afina.

"Thank you," she said, reaching for Afina's hand.

Afina quickly pulled her hand away and folded her arms. "You're disgusting," she sneered and nodded to the couple.

"Please—"

"No," she replied and coldly turned away.

Afina walked toward the door with Althea quickly behind.

"Afina—"

Althea's head jerked backward as the bedroom door slammed shut before her. She sighed, resting her head against the cool wood.

"Oh God, what she must be thinking," she wondered, and lifted herself from the door. She turned to see Sirius, pale, before her. "I deserve her wrath."

"No," he said softly as he placed his hands upon her shoulders, "you can mend this. I know you can."

"She doesn't know you," she said and buried her face in his shoulder. "She only knows what Gran has told her. What she's seen happen to me—God, it's all my fault."

Sirius kissed her cheek. "I'll go," he whispered and held her tighter. "I'll feed Buckbeak and I'll go."

Althea pulled away, but not to protest. "I reckon it is best," she said and swallowed with some difficulty.

Sirius's fingers gently stroked her cheek. "To know that you believe in my innocence, that you forgive me, that you love me," he began, his eyes hungrily taking in every feature of her face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured as her fingertips glided along his cheek.

"It will come right," he whispered and pressed his parted lips to hers.

It would come right in Sirius's absence. The trust shared between Althea and Afina was broken, and Althea wondered if it could ever be mended to what it was before. She doubted it would be so. She reluctantly left Sirius's embrace, and swallowed—suppressing her tears—as she smoothed out his collar.

"You'll be all right?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

Sirius nodded. "I'll go south…or west," he said. "I reckon Buckbeak enjoys the sunshine."

"If you need—"

"I can manage," he whispered, and took her hands in his—he squeezed them. "Thank you."

Althea let go and left Sirius—she was unsure if he would remain when she returned. She roughly wiped her eyes as she closed her bedroom door. She paused, resting the back of her head against the door, and hiccoughed. _Why I can't have both_, she wondered as she heard Afina's sobbing from her childhood bedroom._I have to mend this_. Althea lifted herself off the door and walked toward the bedroom. Afina was curled up onto her side and her face—red and wet—was partially buried into her pillow as she continued to sob.

"Oh, Afina," Althea murmured as she rested her hand against the doorframe.

Afina continued to sob—unaware of Althea's presence. Althea gingerly reclined next to Afina and slid her arm around her waist. _I've hurt you terribly, haven't I_, she thought as she wiped the wet hair off Afina's face.

"I'm so sorry, my love," Althea said and kissed Afina's cheek. "I love you very much and I didn't intend—"

"I didn't know what was wrong with you," Afina forced out and started to sob again. "I thought it was my fault!"

Althea held her tighter as Afina trembled. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry—"

"Gran told me what happened to you," she said, her voice wavering. "From that moment, I wanted to hurt him as much, if not more than he hurt you." Afina hiccoughed. "I had my chance, and I—I failed."

"No…no," Althea whispered. "Cursing him would accomplish nothing."

"I'd feel better."

"Trust me, my darling," Althea said, looking out the opened door and into the darkened corridor. "You wouldn't."

Althea kissed Afina's cheek as Afina continued, "You—you cast the Cruciatus Curse? How would you know—"

"Yes," Althea murmured, stroking Afina's cheek. "I wanted him to know what I felt that night I was tortured—all of that pain I felt on that night and in the coming years." New tears trickled down Afina's cheek. "I couldn't truly move on until I dealt with him," she explained as the tears softly collided with her fingers. "I was so afraid that any man I could be with would reject me because I had loved him—that there was something abnormal and wrong with me," she said and rested her chin upon Afina's thin shoulder. "I had to confront those feelings. I didn't intend—oh, Afina—I didn't intend for any of this to happen."

Afina sniffed loudly.

"He's gone," Althea continued and kissed Afina's cheek. "He's leaving Bermuda—he's leaving my life—for good."

Afina quickly sat up. "No."

"No?" Althea repeated as she sat up.

Afina wiped her eyes with he palms of her hands. "He can't leave," she said, her voice growing stronger. "You've changed since I saw you last. I've never seen you so happy."

Althea's fingers tenderly stroked the wet hair off Afina's face. "Your happiness is what matters. Sirius and I agree—"

"No," she said, removing Althea's hand from her face. "That sadness in you…it's gone."

Althea caught her breath as she gazed into Afina's tear-filled, reddened eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Has he left yet?"

Althea shook her head. "I believe he's still preparing."

Afina brought her knees to her chest. "I want to see him," she said, resting her chin on her knees. "Bring him here—I want to speak with him, alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," she answered and sighed deeply. "I want to speak with him."

"Right," Althea breathed.

Althea entered her bedroom as Sirius had his shirt over his head. She noticed his clothes and other objects—mostly photographs—strewn about the bed.

"Afina would like to speak with you," she said, unable to resist stroking Sirius's bare skin.

Sirius pulled his shirt down and tossed his hair. "Right," he said, smoothing his hair. Althea noticed his eyes were red. "Where is she?"

"My old bedroom," she said as Sirius rushed toward the door.

* * *

The piano bench in her father's study creaked underneath her as she sat. _I haven't played in years_, she thought as she looked at the yellowed sheet music. Althea allowed her fingers to glide slowly and deliberately along the cool keys. _It will take my mind of what is occurring upstairs_.

"Oh, I'm just dreadful," she muttered as she fumbled over a difficult part in the song. "I reckon with practice…" She smirked to herself.

_Isn't that what my father would say? 'Practice and you will be most proficient.' And how do I repay him? Shagging_ the _Sirius Black in his study_, she thought as she attempted the difficult part of the song again. _Well, he did say that I should attempt to like him. I reckon he never thought I'd go so far_. As the minutes passed, her playing improved. Soon, she was making very few mistakes. Althea smiled as her fingers glided effortlessly along the keys. Satisfied with her mastery of that song, she shuffled through the remaining sheet music and found a delightful Wizarding song. _Why don't I have a piano at Hogwarts_, she wondered as she looked out the window—the red amaryllis gently bent in the breeze beneath the large window. _Seeing as I must return, I believe I will remedy this situation immediately_.

"There's a room on the third floor, I think," she wondered aloud and returned to the sheet music.

As Althea continued to play, she noticed a considerable amount of time had passed. She was aware of the stillness in the house each time she stopped playing. The lack of screaming, slamming of doors, or explosions surprised her, but she remembered that not everyone fought like Sirius and Althea. She glanced toward the ceiling. _I might truly have to give him up_. The thought caused her to stumble over keys. Althea returned her focus to the sheet music before her, as the thoughts about losing Sirius would not leave. _To think we could've continued_, she thought, her fingers vigorously hitting the keys. _I couldn't lie to Afina_. Althea frowned. _Gran is another matter_. Althea started to play at a furious pace—her mind moved as quickly as her fingers—as she endeavored to suppress the upsetting thoughts. _I'd been so selfish_. With a flourish quite unnecessary for the piece, Althea finished and straightened, panting—her eyes almost looking through the keys.

The clapping from behind startled her and she turned to face her audience. Sirius casually leaned against he doorframe and stopped clapping as their eyes met. He smiled a small, tired smile.

"I haven't heard you play in a very long time," Afina said, walking forward. She kissed Althea's temple. "It was lovely."

Althea looked to the both of them. Sirius' smile broadened and Althea realized he was to stay. She did not care what was spoken or if there were conditions placed upon the agreement. It was between Sirius and Afina.

"Thank you," she said to Afina.

Afina smiled. "We both love you, Auntie," she said and nodded for Sirius to enter, "and we very much want you to be happy." Afina bent to whisper into Althea's ear, "And he's so bloody charming—he could charm the knickers of a nun."

"Or McGonagall," Althea quipped at which Sirius shot her a strange look.

Afina looked at the piano. "You should play more," she said, touching a key. "I was never good at it, but you—"

"Are brilliant," Sirius finished and kissed the top of Althea's head.

Althea smiled. "I would need someone to sing," she said and winked.

"You sing?" Afina asked Sirius and laughed with surprise. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Sirius shrugged and messed the back of his hair.

Afina developed an impish grin. "Come on, I want to hear," she said eagerly and motioned for Althea to allow Sirius to sit next to her.

Althea obliged. "Don't be fooled by his false modesty," she said, turning toward the piano. "He has a beautiful voice."

"Yeah," he said, a mischievous smile played upon his lips, "someone once told me that I sounded a bit like Paul Rodgers."

"Probably Jane," Althea sighed and winked.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter 20**

_I just have to send this_, she thought as she reread the letter to the Parkers for what seemed to be the twentieth time. She frowned pensively as she reread the carefully worded third paragraph and scrutinized her use of the phrase, "fellow human beings lacking in magical ability." _God, they'll raise an eyebrow at that, won't they_, she questioned as she leaned back in her chair. She unceremoniously tossed the letter onto her father's desk. The letter that politely demanded to know the reasons for Prudence's withdrawal from Hogwarts would have to be sent by that evening if it was to reach the Parkers in time.

Althea removed her reading glasses and lightly massaged the bridge of her nose. She imagined Prudence waiting for her letter—it was that time of summer when letters were to be sent—and the disappointment Prudence would suffer upon not receiving her letter. How would the Parkers tell her that she would not return to Hogwarts? Would they approve of continued contact with her Hogwarts friends? Would they approve of a suitable tutor for Prudence? Althea closed her eyes. _She will be very bored_, she thought and sighed deeply. _They truly have no idea. She isn't a Muggle child—it isn't a phase that she'll grow out of—all that magical ability…the chance to harness it, denied her…wasted_. Althea knew that Prudence would lash out—whether intentionally or unintentionally—and the consequences at best would be mortifying and at worst devastating. _Becoming frightened when those bursts of magic do happen only makes it worse_, she thought and opened her eyes.

"God, I am so bored."

Sirius sat limp upon the sofa—his legs upon the coffee table and his arms outstretched at his sides. Althea smiled sympathetically as Sirius continued to stare vacantly at the ceiling. Sirius faked a mournful sigh. His gaze briefly flickered to her direction and his parted lips upturned into a crooked smile.

"No," she said, leaning forward. "All I need is for Gran to enter the room—you'd be dead before you'd pull your trousers up."

"Your bedroom, then?" he suggested, lifting his head. "We could lock the door, or use a Silencing Charm…or play Led Zeppelin to dampen your much appreciated and beloved outbursts of ecstasy."

Althea let out a low giggle as she attempted her best disapproving look. "They'll be back soon—"

"No, they won't," he said, sitting up. "The old woman said five and it's two-thirty now."

Althea gently bit her bottom lip as she read the time. _We have loads of time_, she thought and stood from behind the desk. _But I haven't forgotten Gran's aversion of shopping_._ She'll be back before five, I just know it, but like you'll care—you'll just growl in my ear about how awful she is as curses fly above our heads until you finish_.

Althea leaned against her father's desk, wincing slightly as it creaked under her weight. "And what excuse will I use this time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You might've been clever with that Repelling Spell to keep her from that hippogriff—"

"_Buckbeak_."

"Yes, Buckbeak," she said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous name, "but it's very difficult to explain away a pair of pants and trousers at the foot of my bed."

Sirius playfully narrowed his eyes. "You're forgetting that your knickers precariously dangled from the chandelier—"

"She didn't see that," she said quickly, suppressing her smile. "And _why_ do you insist—"

"Why not?" he snorted, resting his foot upon the edge of the coffee table. He scratched the side of his face as he spoke, "Right, I know what you should say."

"What?"

He folded his arms and smirked. "I was having it off with Sirius Black."

"Oh, right," she remarked and lifted herself from the desk. "I imagine she'll be as understanding as Afina."

_Although, Afina hasn't spoken to me about you since that afternoon_. Althea, with a pleased smile, walked beyond Sirius toward the piano as his gaze remained upon her. She rested the palms of her hands against the top of the smooth black piano, her fingertips growing accustomed to the cool feeling of the smooth wood. It had been over a week since the confrontation and the subsequent discussion between Sirius and Afina. Althea was unsure of what transpired between the two, but Althea was very sure that Afina had not divulged Althea's secret: Sirius had returned to her and they had resumed their relationship. _I wouldn't blame her if she's still upset about your Animagus form_, she thought as Sirius slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. _She's affronted with that deceptive reminder everyday_.

"You still play beautifully," he murmured, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply.

"I think you're mistaken," she said softly. "I haven't played for a very long time."

"Nonsense…I remember the first time I heard you play," he said, placing his chin on her bare shoulder. "I almost kissed you, too, but James interrupted."

"I remember."

"He seemed to do that a lot," he said, his rough chin gently scratching Althea's shoulder as he talked. "No, I mean, _really_ a lot."

"Maybe he was afraid that he'd lose you to Morrigan," she said and slightly smiled. "Probably thought you went mad."

"I was mad ages before we ever started dating."

"Probably thought I brewed a Love Potion, then?" she teased and bit her bottom lip as he kissed the nape of her neck.

"We both know you loathed Potions," he remarked and gently guided her toward the piano bench. "It'd be brilliant if you played again."

"What about Gran?"

"That old woman hasn't put a curse on this piano," he said as he sat. He patted the bench and smiled. "Come on, love, play for me. It's just us."

Althea sat next to him and playfully wrinkled her nose. "As long as you don't insist I play Celestina Warbeck."

Sirius made a retching noise. "I would _never_ insist or allow you to play that awful music. It would be cruel torture," he said, shuffling through the sheet music. He frowned. "These just won't do."

Althea read the title, _You Cleansweeped My Heart Away_, and grimaced with embarrassment. "What would you have me play?"

Sirius smirked and tapped his wand against a piece of sheet music. Slowly the notes and words began to fade and rearrange into a favorite of their seventh year.

She sighed, "Typical."

"What?" he asked, leaning exceptionally close to her.

Althea inhaled the warm, pleasurable scent of his soap and blinked slowly. She imagined her face buried into his neck, the scent heightened by sweat and bare skin. She curved her fingers instinctively, her nails dragged against the keys.

"Nothing, Black, just enjoy the song," she said and started to play.

Sirius's enthusiasm for the piece induced a nervous twinge in Althea's stomach. _If you're a merciful God, keep Gran away_, she thought as Sirius moaned the first verse in her ear. His warm breath caused her to arch her back slightly and she gently bit her bottom lip. She looked up from the music to Sirius. He winked.

"When I read the letter you wrote, it made me mad, mad, mad," Sirius sang and Althea shook her head with mild amusement. "When I read the news that it brought me, it made me sad, sad, sad."

"You're such a wanker," she breathed, smiling, as Sirius' singing grew louder.

"But I still love you so, I can't let you go," he sang, his hand rhythmically slapping against the piano bench. "I love you—oh, baby, I love you!"

"That's quite all right," she laughed as Sirius continued to moan.

She inhaled a pleasant deep breath as her fingers flitted over the keys to meet Sirius's increasing climax. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She smiled impishly.

"Would you like me to finish the song?" she asked in mock innocence.

"Oh—oh darlin'—what?" His expression was a mixture of anticipation and triumph.

Althea's fingers grasped his soft linen shirt and Sirius lightly licked his lips as she drew him closer to her. She kissed him, and let her teeth linger, gently tugging at his lower lip as she pulled away. Sirius smiled as he slowly opened his eyes.

"I reckon it would be safer if we went upstairs," she said as she smoothed his collar.

Sirius laughed lowly.

Althea stood and held out her hand for Sirius, who grasped it with a wink. The giggling couple raced up the stairs, and with giddy momentum burst through the bedroom door. Althea bit her bottom lip as she looked upon Sirius's ready expression. Without hesitation, she placed her hands upon his chest and firmly pushed him backwards onto the bed. Sirius laughed eagerly as Althea slipped off her dress, and he roughly pulled his buttoned shirt over his head as Althea joined him upon the bed. Althea placed his warm hands upon her thighs as she lowered herself to kiss lips, his jaw. She enjoyed the roughness of his afternoon stubble against her lips.

"Oh, Morrigan," he whispered as she gently sucked his earlobe.

"_Althea_," she reminded, as she felt his fingertips gliding up the small of her back.

"Althea…Morrigan…Althea Morrigan…_whatever_," he murmured thickly and Althea grinned at the easing of hooks and elastic.

* * *

_The healing rates are truly remarkable, and I believe, statistically significant. Granted, our sample size is small, but it is something. _

_ I'd like to thank you for your continued encouragement in this endeavor. It is my hope, one day, to study this topic in an academic setting. _

_ Regards,_

_ CB_

"And you almost did," she muttered as she placed the letter to her side.

Althea rested the back of her head against the cool headboard and wrinkled her nose. _You could've had the limitless resources of my job_, she thought as she caught a glimpse of Sirius's wet naked form casually strolling across the bath. _And I could be here, enjoying _him_, all bloody daylong_. Althea picked up the rather thick manuscript and rejoiced that she left her reading glasses in her study. Sirius vigorously toweled his wet hair as he walked toward the bed, and she couldn't help but appreciate his naked frame. She noticed the beginnings of a small stomach and his face was fuller, happier. He did not resemble that awful skeleton with filthy, matted hair she remembered from Hogwarts, and Althea was glad for it. He grabbed the pair of pants crumpled at the end of the bed and playfully narrowed his eyes as he mockingly studied her.

"So worried your Gran would be home early," he teased as he pulled up his pants. "Now look at you."

Althea looked from her half-dressed form to the manuscript. "You've never thought my body shameful before. I like how my tits look in this bra."

"As do I, my love." She felt the bed sink next to her. "Is this how you'll spend your birthday?"

Althea shrugged and pretended to read the manuscript as Sirius leaned close; his head slightly obscured the paper.

"Peezoklektic effect?" he read and pulled away, bemused.

Althea fought a giggle. "Piezoelectric."

Sirius quickly shook his head. "What's that?"

Althea pulled her knees to her chest. "It has to do with bone healing," she explained and tossed the manuscript upon the bed. "Originally, a Muggle concept, but it has applications with Magic as well."

Sirius peered at the manuscript and muttered, "Morgantown Mothmen?"

"They're a Quodpot team," she explained, her great toe flicking the corner of the pages. "I'm not sure what a Steeler is though."

"I reckon the one wearing the armor," he replied, pointing to the still black and white photograph of a large, brutish man.

Althea cocked her head to the side. _How does that man move_, she wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"Right," she breathed and smiled appreciatively. "Solved one mystery."

Sirius blankly stared at the manuscript. She suppressed the impulse to remind him that Muggle photographs did not move.

"Boring stuff, really," she said, smoothing a curl behind her ear. "Well—I mean—boring to you, at least…. It's the origins of magic."

Sirius wrinkled his nose.

"How it's locked away in every human being," she said, glancing at the long-winded title in bold letters. "How it's expressed in some and others not."

Sirius frowned. "That's what your parents were studying," he said, picking up the manuscript.

"Yes, and—"

He turned the page. "What got them killed?"

Althea felt a knot in her stomach. "You're not going to tell me what I can and can't do, Sirius."

He sighed.

She straightened herself—ready for an argument. "Voldemort's gone and I—and others—have been working so hard on this," she said, pointing to the manuscript. "The advancements made in Muggle genetics only help us. You wouldn't believe some of the things they've learned."

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows as he turned the page. He looked up as if he were mulling something over.

"Do you know, we share a remarkable amount of our genome with the world around us," she said, leaning close to him.

Sirius mouthed, "Genome…genome…genome."

"It is how Animagus transformations are possible," she said, gently nudging him. "How Remus can transform into a werewolf. We could develop new therapies, a new—"

"Maybe I could help you," he said, not looking up from the page.

Althea blinked. "What?"

"I have nothing to do," he shrugged.

"It's taken years—"

"So?" he snorted, his head jerking back slightly. "I have years."

"True."

"D'you think I won't be able to understand it?" He nodded toward the manuscript.

Althea vigorously shook her head. "No—"

"I'm _not_ thick," he said quickly—his eyes widened slightly for emphasis.

"I know you're not. It's just," she said and smiled at him, "not the answer I was expecting."

Sirius placed the manuscript between them. "Is it important to you?"

Althea did not hesitate, "Yes, very."

"Then it's important to me," he whispered and kissed the tip of her nose.

* * *

"Are all these necessary?" Althea quipped as Afina placed the cake with—what Althea hoped to be the proper amount of—lit purple birthday candles in front of her. "We are in a wooden structure."

"Ha _ha_, Auntie," she said plainly.

Althea winced as she felt Afina place the garish foil tiara upon her head. Afina stepped back and smiled mischievously as she looked upon the sneering Althea. Sirius barked happily—his tail wagging vigorously against the dining room table. _Just you wait_, she thought, faintly narrowing her eyes at him.

"Perfect," she breathed happily, but quickly gasped. "I almost forgot!"

Althea laughed lowly as Afina gingerly placed a party hat upon Sirius's reluctant head. Sirius let out a small whimper.

"Cruel torture," she murmured, her eyes meeting Afina's.

Afina winked.

Althea looked to Gran, who was sitting to her left—her arms folded. Afina could never coax her to wear such a ridiculous hat. _It would be the memory I'd use if I could conjure a Patronus_, she thought as Gran looked from the dog to Althea's birthday cake.

"Aren't you going to say something about this ridiculous hat?" she asked and flicked at the foil tiara. "How I'm disgracing our family? Our good name? Heavens, if Lady A saw this vulgar display of bacchanalia—"

"Blow out your candles, Althea Rosemary, before the cake catches fire."

Althea made a face. "No singing?"

Afina gasped and in her best voice—terribly off key to upset Gran—began to sing a birthday song with a melody and lyrics of her own cleverness. Althea shook with laughter as Sirius barked in harmony. Gran massaged the bridge of her nose, but Althea thought she recognized a discreet smile. Upon finishing, Althea raised her wand to the cake and muttered a charm to extinguish the growing flames. Afina frowned.

"I know better," she quipped, watching the smoke rise above their heads.

Drowsy, her stomach full of sugary frosting and chocolate cake, Althea looked upon the many boxes that surrounded her. Afina's creations for the autumn were in their half opened boxes as well as Gran's sensible gifts for the school year. _That is a rather nice quill, isn't it_, she thought, staring at the wooden box upon the table. _Lucky, I'll be able to use it at Hogwarts_. Sirius—covered in purple and silver ribbons and bows—reclined at her feet, his tail gently stroking her leg. He stretched and yawned, and Althea did so as well.

"It's been ages since he's been out," Althea said, standing—purple tissue paper falling to her feet. "I reckon I should let him out."

Gran stifled a yawn. "Very well."

Afina sat forward. "I'll go too."

"No, no," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I think I can manage."

Sirius bolted from the room, leaving a flurry of satin and metallic ribbon in his wake. Althea slowly followed him out of her house and down the dirt path to the far side of the island. She looked to her right and saw a sailboat in the distance. _And that is as close as you'll get to my shore_, she thought and frowned as a piece of gravel became lodged in her sandal.

"I should pave this entire island," she muttered in jest as she kicked the jagged stone from her sandal.

She noticed in the distance that the shaggy black dog had stopped and gradually transformed into his more pleasing shape. As Althea approached, his grin widened, and in a grand flourish he conjured a large blue blanket.

"This will do nicely," he said as he sat upon the blanket.

Sirius sighed contentedly and stretched as he reclined against the squishy blanket. Althea rested her head in the crook of his shoulder and smiled warmly as Sirius held her close to him. She closed her eyes—her body gently soothed to sleep by the waves, which mimicked the rise and fall of his thin chest, and the muffled sound of his heartbeat. _That I could have many more birthdays such as this_, she thought as Sirius kissed her face. It was an unremarkable birthday—one could even argue incredibly boring—but Althea would not have traded it for the lavish party in a London nightclub that Afina would have preferred or the garden party Gran had suggested. _He truly wants to help me with my work_, she thought, her fingers slipping underneath his unbuttoned collar. She lazily traced circles against his collarbone as she determined the best books for him to read. _It's not something I thought he'd enjoy…it's not motorbike maintenance, or curse breaking, or defense against the Dark Arts. It would take ages for him to understand this at the level that I do…_. Satisfied, she inhaled deeply, taking pleasure in the warm scent of his soap, but frowned slightly at the lingering smell of hippogriff. _But we do have years_.

"Happy birthday," Sirius whispered, stroking her back.

"Mhmm."

"Unfortunately, I don't have a gift for you."

Althea shifted, holding him tighter. "I wasn't expecting you to."

"You _always _expected a birthday gift," he explained softly. "Actually, I'm not sure what to give you."

"I don't need anything."

Sirius laughed quietly. "Lies, my love…_lies_."

* * *

**AN:** When I read the letter you wrote, it made me mad, mad, mad/When I read the news that it brought me, it made me sad, sad, sad/But I still love you so, I can't let you go/I love you—oh, baby, I love you/Oh—oh darlin'

—"D'yer Mak'er" (Led Zeppelin)


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Chapter 21**

___"It looks sort of like a Hinkypunk," Althea said, squinting at the large, oddly shaped cloud._

Sirius let out a small laugh underneath her as he stroked the top of her head. "They all look like Puffskeins to me," he replied and Althea heard his stomach gurgle into her right ear.

Sirius lifted himself onto his elbows, which caused Althea to frown. She was very comfortable with her head rested against his stomach.

"You'd think they'd tire by now," he remarked. "They have to be hungry."

"You're always hungry."

Sirius groaned, throwing his head back, and Althea fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"They won't miss a sandwich," he pleaded quietly, gently poking her shoulder. "Just a sandwich."

Althea sighed disappointedly as she sat up. Sirius's mild pangs of hunger interrupted her pleasant cuddle. You'll eat all the sandwiches before they'll tire___, she thought, crawling toward the pale brown basket. She opened the basket and looked at the neatly arranged sandwiches. She frowned slightly—smelling the assortment of meats and cheeses created a small groan in her stomach. _Maybe I should call them back___, she thought as Sirius crawled next to her._

"Right," she sighed. "What do you want?"

His face eager, he asked, "How many kinds do you have?"

Althea shrugged, "Go ahead and look."

Sirius peered into the basket and let out a noise of happy surprise. He quickly shuffled through the carefully wrapped sandwiches. There will be lettuce and salmon salad leaking out the bottom before he's done, I just know it___, she thought as Sirius picked up a sandwich, sniffed it, frowned, and returned it to the basket._

"Oh," he said, his eyes widening, "chicken salad."

"I'm glad you approve," she said, partially unwrapping a turkey sandwich.

Sirius took a rather large bite of his sandwich as he looked out at the ocean. He swallowed hard, brought the sandwich to his lips, but thought better of it. He frowned thoughtfully as he rested his hand that held his sandwich against his bent knee.

"We should have another one."

"Sandwich?" she said, peeling the crust from the bread. "You haven't finished your first."

"No, a child."

Althea's stomach felt heavy. She rewrapped her sandwich. Why would he bring this up now___, she questioned, unceremoniously tossing the sandwich back in the basket. _It's her first holiday with us…let's enjoy this_.___

"Look at her, so happy with Afina," he said, pointing with his half eaten sandwich. "She could be happy with a brother or sister."

Althea observed Prudence, now about to start her fifth year, wading in the surf. From that distance, it would have been very difficult to distinguish between the mother and daughter at that age. Prudence grinned as she threw herself backwards into an oncoming wave. She was content, Althea could not argue otherwise, and she did admire Afina—almost to the point of worship.

"She has Afina," she said as Prudence wiped the wet, thick black ringlets from her face. "They've been inseparable."

Prudence noticed her audience and waved happily at the couple. Althea raised her hand and produced a timid wave. Prudence threw her head back in laughter and received a face full of saltwater from Afina at which Sirius let out a bark-like laugh.

"Sirius, you know the difficulty I've had," she added, not taking her eyes off Prudence as she splashed Afina in retaliation. "I've tried so many things—counter-curses, potions, charms…nothing has worked. I'm unable to carry a child to term…. I don't want to go through that heartache again."

"You've tried—"

"Yes," she said, turning her head to face him. "A few times…and we don't bother with anything—"

"It would be sort of embarrassing, wouldn't it?" he remarked and wrinkled his nose. "Parents have a baby when you're so old. Have to explain, 'Well, he was in Azkaban—'"

"Sirius, be reasonable," she laughed, her voice slightly strained.

"Parents name you Prudence," he continued, an impish smile playing upon his lips, "reckon it's some misplaced joke."

"It was your idea."

"And it was fantastic," he said, and cupped her face in his hands. "Althea, my love, don't worry," he whispered soothingly, his hands drifting toward her neck. "It will come right."

Althea gasped as she felt his cool hands tighten around her neck….

Althea's eyes snapped open as Sirius—who hovered over her—tightened his bony fingers around her neck, growling and snarling incoherently. His look was maddened—his face deathly pale. Instinctively, she started to thrash about-the dread and panic filled her—as she fought to gasp for a small breath.

"S—" her lips moved as she clawed at his hands.  
_  
_Althea continued to struggle underneath him—her hands and arms flailing against his, but he refused to let go—his grip seemed to tighten. ___He's not waking up_, she thought, horrified, as she attempted to knock him into the headboard. Sirius remained, snarling. Her wand, teetering on the edge of the nightstand, caught her eye—she just might be able to reach it. Althea desperately lunged at her nightstand as the sharp pains increased in her chest. Her elbow painfully extended, her fingers frantically slapped and clawed against the wood, feeling for the handle of her wand. Her fingers grasped the smooth wood handle, and as the dizzy, floating sensation encompassed her body, she pointed her wand at Sirius and thought,_INFLIGO_! A ball of blue light erupted from her wand and hit Sirius's chest—the force of the curse sent Sirius, now awake and his eyes wide, over the end of the bed. Althea swiftly sat up and leaned forward, endeavoring to breathe more than high-pitched gasps.

"Althea? Oh my God, what happened?" Sirius said quickly as he leapt onto the bed.

Althea, gagging and coughing, violently pushed him away.

"Althea—my love—please," he said, his voice panicked. "What happened?"

Althea slowly sat up and turned herself to face him. Sirius's eyes drifted from her face to her neck. She allowed his timid hand to sweep the curtain of black curls over her shoulder, and he caught his breath. Sirius quickly retracted his hand and covered his mouth—his face a mixture of horror and anguish.

"You were having a nightmare," she said hoarsely and swallowed painfully.

Sirius brought his knees to his chest and covered his face with his trembling hands.

"And I woke up—"__

"My God, Althea, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice heavy. He sat up—his eyes bright with tears. "I'd never—God!" he growled and ran his fingers vigorously through his hair.

"It's Azkaban," she said quietly, her expression grave. "After Azkaban, I had violent dreams…very vivid, very violent dreams." __

_I didn't have anyone to strangle_, though, she thought as she remembered the times she would wake up panting on the floor next to her bed—the urge for vengeance still lingering. The nightmares were the remnants of Azkaban. The dreams of Azkaban were so vivid one would have difficulty discerning the dream state from reality during the time spent in that hellish prison. When the prison sentence ceased, the dreams continued and it was not uncommon for an ex-convict to react as Sirius had done. Althea blinked as she remembered the dreams of murdering Sirius or Sirius attempting to murder her—the violence, the sex, and the layers of true memories blended into sick perversion. She pointed her wand at Sirius's temple and muttered a Cheering Charm. Sirius's expression remained grim.

Sirius rubbed the side of his unshaven face. "I can't sleep with you. I can't share a bed with you," he said, staring at the large space of bed between them. "What if I don't wake up? What if you don't wake up? I'd—God!"

Althea nodded. "It might be best," she said, "for now, at least."

Sirius leaned back and rested his head on the bedpost as he studied Althea. "This is the one moment I wish Gran would've heard us."

Althea sat back against the headboard and clutched the down pillow to her chest. "No more Silencing Charms."

Sirius nodded and sighed. "I reckon I should sleep with Buckbeak."

Althea vigorously shook her head. "No, I want you to be comfortable," she said and pulled a loose feather from the pillow. "The carriage house isn't the place for you—"  
_  
_"I'm not sleeping_here_," he said, jabbing the bed with his index finger. "I'm not sleeping in this room."

"I wouldn't suggest it," she replied, her fingers stroking her pillow. "The solarium or the library—even the map room—"

"I could sleepwalk—"

"I'll take your wand away and lock the door," she said and hesitated before she added, "and give you a sleeping potion."

Sirius frowned.

"One that would place you in a deep enough sleep—"

Sirius shook his head.

"It would be good for you," she said and found herself leaning forward. She placed the pillow to her side as she crawled toward him. "Only temporary, my love."

"I don't want to become addicted—"

"Poppy juice is not an additive to this sleeping potion," she said and reached for his hand. "I would never give you that sleeping potion," she continued in earnest and tenderly squeezed his hand. "Never."

"My love, I—"  
_  
_"I spent a year in Alexandria in recovery after Azkaban," she explained and let go of his hand. "You haven't had that luxury."

Sirius winced as he looked upon Althea's neck. "Let me heal that, will you?"

Althea touched her neck and flinched at the painful tenderness. "I'll take care of it." She started to stand.

Sirius grabbed her arm, but quickly let go. "Please, let me."

Althea returned to the bed. "You're awful at Healing Charms," she said and promptly realized her usual teasing remark was not the most appropriate. "Sorry."

Sirius shrugged hollowly.

Althea slipped her hand under his pillow and pulled out his wand. "___Eviresco_," she said, handing him his wand.

Sirius sniffed and held the tip of his wand to her neck. "___Eviresco_," he muttered sadly and Althea felt an agreeably warm sensation caressing her neck.

"Thank you," she said as she touched her healed neck.

"Yeah," he whispered and rested the back of his head against the bedpost. Sirius closed his eyes. "When did it get better?"

Althea furrowed her eyebrows. "Oh," she murmured. "I didn't have much of a choice. Gran didn't give me a choice," she explained and gently bit her bottom lip. "I still feel it—some days more than others. I felt it more this last school year. Dementors at the Quidditch match and I had to lie to a group of Hufflepuffs that my vomiting was due to rancid Butterbeer."

Sirius pulled a face.

"Indeed," she sighed and looked upon Sirius thoughtfully. "What were you dreaming about?"

Sirius opened his eyes. "Oh," he murmured, frowning deeply, "Peter…and Azkaban."

Althea nodded. She heard Afina's sleepy, shuffling footsteps as she walked by the bedroom door. Gran would soon wonder why Althea was not at breakfast. ___I'll take a lecture_, she thought, reclining upon the bed. She looked up at Sirius, who remained motionless, his eyes looking ahead of him. __

Althea loosely hugged the pillow underneath her head. "I'd dream about the water that constantly dripped in the corner of my cell," she said and Sirius's expression did not change. "And that woman who'd just howl at night—at least I thought it was nighttime."

"She died a little after you left," he said, his eyes dimming. "So many," he murmured, the lines deepening upon his face.

Althea's stomach tightened as Sirius inhaled to speak. The room, illuminated by the morning sun was unnaturally cold. She pulled the soft white sheet over her bare shoulders. She listened intently and without judgment as Sirius, with great hesitation, gave an unprovoked telling of his time in Azkaban. ___He needs someone to listen_, she thought, as Sirius quietly recounted that he remembered every prisoner he encountered._I had Sister Margaret…Remus, he tried but he had his own demons…and Afina still believes I spent the year in rehab in Malibu_. Althea felt a small, giddy sensation as she realized she was the one—the one Sirius implicitly trusted to tell to his years in Azkaban._I'm the one he needs most of all_, she thought as Sirius swallowed hard._He's never been this open with me…. I, alone, understand_. Her eyes widened slightly in response to his frankness as Sirius talked more freely of his time. A man—aware of his innocence, and so much so, to keep him sane—who witnessed the dregs of the human condition…left to be forgotten and tormented. He was the sentinel for countless prisoners driven to insanity and despair.

"The new prisoner driven to madness and eventual death," he said bitterly. "Held at the Minister's pleasure."

Althea nodded. "Nothing pleasing about it," she whispered.

Sirius nodded solemnly. "Over and over and over, I saw that damned cycle. The same anger, the same terror, the tears, the screams, and then, the quiet," he continued darkly, and paused—he inhaled a ragged breath. "They all went quiet in the end."

Althea remembered the quiet. As the dementors brought the meals to the cell, the fear and despair one felt at their presence only increased. Meals soon became an untouched bowl at the cell bars. In time, one did not venture toward the cell bars and would stay with his back against the slime-covered, cold stone walls of the cell. It was not unheard for dead prisoners to be found curled up in the farthest corners of the cell in one last attempt to escape.

"In time, I knew just a little before the dementors knew someone had given up," he said and looked to his hands. "I hate to admit it, but it was a game with me. Sick, right?"

"No," she answered quietly and sat up.

Sirius remained still and did not acknowledge that she had moved closer to him.  
_  
_"It isn't sick, Sirius. You spent twelve years in a place so horrific that the everyday witch or wizard can't begin to imagine what it was like," she said, taking his hand. "Day after day, living every hellish nightmare over—and, my love—we were in a bloody war."

"We were."

"I relived my mother's death everyday," she continued and tenderly squeezed his hand, "and I heard you relive finding James's body."

Sirius tightly shut his eyes and roughly wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I know," he muttered and sniffed. "I should be dead."

Althea let out a mournful sigh. She reached forward and stroked the few strands of smooth black hair away from his somber face. "Why didn't you—"

"Die?" he croaked and opened his eyes. "I couldn't face James. I couldn't—" Sirius covered his face as he shook with grief.

Althea murmured soothing sounds as she gently coaxed his hands away from his face. Her eyes, too, had welled with tears as she looked upon his tear-stained, grief-stricken face. Althea raised her wand and floated a handkerchief into his hands. Sirius nodded thanks as he wiped his eyes.

"James could never hate you," she said, resting her palms against his thighs. "Does Harry hate you?"

Sirius shook his head.

Althea took the handkerchief from him, folded it, and dabbed the tears from his chin. "You didn't betray them, my love," she said softly. "You did what you thought was right…as did James and Lily, don't forget that."

"Because I—"

Althea took Sirius by the shoulders. "___You didn't deserve Azkaban_," she said, her gaze unwavering. "I know that you believe you deserved Azkaban because you survived. None of us would've wanted that for you, I know it."

Sirius refused to look at Althea. His eyes drifted toward her ceiling.

"My love, I live with the guilt that I let you rot there," she said, stroking his bare shoulders. "I, the mother of your child, should've seen through the ridiculousness of it and fought for you. God! I know the truth and I can't bear to think that you spent one day let alone twelve years there!"

"You don't understand—"

"You thought I was dead, right?"

"Yes, I was told—I saw the cottage—"

"And what did we do last night," she asked, leaning forward—her face within inches of his, "that required not one but_two_ Silencing Charms?"

Sirius's lips twitched into a weak smile. "It was your birthday," he muttered.

"True," she said, her fingertips stroking the nape of his neck. "But I know everything and I love you. I want to be with you."

Sirius, furrowing his brow, rested his forehead against hers. "My love, I—"

"___I love you_," she repeated earnestly. "What else is there?"

Sirius paused and whispered, "Nothing."


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Chapter 22**

Althea absentmindedly took a sip of her lemonade as Gran droned on about an irrelevant Ministry ball that she would miss in the late summer. _To promote magical cooperation_, she thought as her eyes wandered toward a particularly flawless rose bloom. The blossom, full and bright pink, had attracted a honeybee that crept along its satin petals. _To promote my boredom, more like it_. She lifted the cool glass to her lips, sighed with some annoyance, and placed the half full glass upon the table.

The three women sat underneath an ancient oak tree at the edge of the rose garden. Althea's eyes drifted upward to the low-lying branches. Her dark blue eyes lazily traced the course of the longest gnarled branch until smaller, contorted branches overtook it at its farthest point. _I would sit up there for hours_, she thought and squinted her eyes. _What if I would transform at this moment? I could fly up there and squawk at Gran and Afina below_. She sighed wistfully.

Althea did enjoy late afternoons such as this, surveying her gardens underneath her large, floppy white hat as honeybees and various insects hummed and buzzed about. The noises were peaceful to her and could quiet her mind; however, her mind could not quiet this late afternoon, as it would return to that tumultuous morning. Althea and Sirius had avoided one another for most of the morning and afternoon. She looked in the direction of the carriage house in the distance. Sirius had spent the better part of his morning in the carriage house with the hippogriff. Buckbeak extended his wings and Althea was grateful at Sirius's cleverness with Repelling Charms. _I reckon he'll sleep out there_, she thought, and frowned at his missed presence, as she had grown accustomed to his large tail wagging against her leg underneath the table. _Always by my side_.

Althea shifted and tugged at her sundress—her frustration increasing as Gran lamented that Althea would not be wearing one of Afina's creations to the ball. _As if I could tell them what happened_, she thought as Afina promised Gran that Althea would wear one of her frocks to the charity ball in October. _Oh, by the way Afina, I woke up to Sirius throttling me this morning. He had an awful dream about Azkaban. I'd like him to get some help, if you don't mind? Right, she'd kill him, and Gran…she'd offer him up to a dementor_. Althea felt a small knot in her stomach as she studied the pattern of dark purple peonies against the white fabric of her sundress. _Regression is possible_, she thought as Afina expressed her excitement at her first Quidditch World Cup. _I've had my moments_. Althea thought to her first staff party at Hogwarts where she held a knife to Snape's throat. It was inevitable that a sound, smell, word, or situation could trigger a violent or deranged reaction. It would be naïve to believe Sirius whole. One could not leave Azkaban after twelve years unscathed, and she frowned deeply as she imagined Sirius, alone, succumbing to a momentary slip into madness. _I reckon it's that old woman_, she thought darkly as Gran expressed her apprehension at spending a night or two in a tent—even if it had four bedrooms, a full bath, and a pianoforte for entertaining. _He needs help. He would be safe in Alexandria—Sister Margaret would listen to him without judgment. He'd have the sun, potions, Cheering Charms, chocolate…all the opportunities I had forced upon me_. She wrinkled her nose. _Sirius in a convent_?

"I have an extra ticket to the match," Gran said as Althea smoothed the loose pleats of her dress. "I'd very much like it if you would attend. The Minister of Ireland's Undersecretary—"

Althea made a face and Afina snickered.

"—is eager to meet you," Gran finished and frowned as she took a sip of lemonade.

"Is eager to remove my knickers," she corrected and smirked as Afina snorted her lemonade. Before Gran could make a disapproving remark, she continued, "I sent them a letter yesterday."

"Who?" Afina asked as the filmy feathers of her lime green fascinator fluttered in the breeze.

Althea straightened herself in her chair. "The Parkers."

Gran relaxed slightly in her chair. "Good," she said and pursed her lips. "Did you suggest—"

"Yes," Althea sighed and a moderate gust of wind lifted a portion of the pale pink tablecloth up over the table. "I suggested a tutor for her, and _no_, I didn't suggest Freddie's tutor," she continued, flattening out the tablecloth. "I suggested Remus."

Gran nodded faintly with approval. "Remus is an appropriate choice," she said as she brushed a small brightly colored insect off her muslin sleeve. "Very patient and a capable wizard."

Althea felt a small upsurge in gratitude toward Gran. Not many Wizarding society matrons would associate themselves with a werewolf or hold one in such high esteem. Remus had proved himself with Gran, and his mannerisms—refined from his upbringing with a forced quality to counteract his acquired nature—were welcomed to the sort Althea would bring about. He was modest and gracious, and not cavalier.

"Are you sure, though?" Afina remarked, leaning forward. "I mean, could he be her tutor? I read about those new Ministry laws—"

"He needs a job," Althea interrupted as she waved her hand to disregard Afina's apprehension. "He's fantastic. He was a tutor to an American boy a few years ago."

"Really?" Afina breathed, raising her eyebrows. "What happened?"

Althea lifted her glass. "A few chickens went missing," she explained and swirled the last bit of lemonade around the glass. "The neighbors discovered his furry little problem."

Afina snickered. "That's awful," she laughed and covered her mouth as she giggled. "Who thought to call him that? Not you—"

"No," Althea replied, shaking her head, "not me. His mates…James and the lot."

"Of course," she murmured and winked. She leaned close to Althea and whispered loudly, laughingly, "It sounds as though you're talking about unruly pubic hair."

Althea slyly cast a glance at Gran, who was thin lipped. "It does a bit, doesn't it?" she remarked, wrinkling her nose.

Afina eagerly awaited Althea's further consideration of Remus Lupin's pubic hair.

"Anyway," she said and Afina sighed with playful disappointment, ""I don't care what the Ministry thinks on the matter. When has the Ministry ever truly cared what those Muggle-borns that never attended Hogwarts do? No tutors. No wands. To the Ministry, she's a twelve-year-old girl of Muggle parentage…there are no laws requiring Hogwarts…or a tutor."

"I don't want him in trouble, that's all," Afina replied and sank into her chair.

"The Ministry won't know," Althea said and smiled to herself. "He'll be paid in Muggle money."

"Maybe he'll buy himself some robes," Afina murmured, folding her arms. "He didn't accept the ones I made for him."

"When did you make him robes?" Althea asked, raising an eyebrow.

Afina unfolded her arms, refusing to look at Althea. "When he visited me in New York."

"When?" she pressed teasingly.

Afina sighed with mild annoyance. "A few weeks ago," she answered, tugging at the tablecloth. "Bloody pride."

Althea smiled sympathetically. "Next time, place the robes in his case as he's about to leave. He won't realize his old robes are gone until he returns home," she said and Afina's expression exhibited modest admiration. "I've done this a few times," she continued and winked. "Or you could just stick a few pins in his bum like you did to me and he'll feel obligated to take them."

"He doesn't have much of a bum," Afina murmured.

"Well, not one you can see in those robes, anyway," Althea replied and faintly furrowed her eyebrows. "Hang on, how would you know—"

"Gran's here," Afina interrupted through gritted teeth.

Althea leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "I'd like to know," she said, smirking at the new pink of Afina's cheeks. "Out with it."

Afina sighed and shot a wary look at Gran. "I walked in as he was changing," she explained, picking at the tablecloth. She giggled lowly. "He yelped like a bloody girl."

"Good," Althea said as Gran gave her a stern look. "I thought I'd have to hex him."

Afina made a face. "No, Auntie, no," she said quickly and stuck out her tongue. "He's—"

"Old?" she finished, jokingly narrowing her eyes at Afina.

Afina shifted uncomfortably in her chair and hesitated before she corrected, "A bit uncool."

"Uncool?" she repeated and arched her eyebrow.

"Yeah," she said and paused as she searched for her words, "have you seen him dance?"

"Dance? With a woman?" she asked and nodded. "Yes, I've—"

"_No_," she said uneasily as her eyes darted from side to side, "by himself."

Althea frowned. "I reckon I haven't."

"He is a sensible man," Gran offered.

Afina leaned forward. "It was embarrassing," she whispered and shivered. "He sort of swayed and bobbed up and down," she explained, mimicking incredibly awkward arm movements. "Like an uncle at a wedding."

Althea fought her urge to snicker. "Well, he is like an uncle," she reminded and decided that she would force Remus to attend Sophie's New Year's Eve party. "Was it Pan?"

Afina nodded.

"It's not the easiest music to dance to, is it?" she replied as Gran nodded in agreement. "I reckon not many men can dance, though…too ridiculous on the dance floor."

Afina, with her fingertips, traced circles into the tablecloth. "Could Sirius dance?"

It became unnaturally quiet. _Why did you mention his name, Afina_, she wondered, as Afina—without looking up from the tablecloth—continued to trace circles. Gran's lips contorted into a slight sneer. Althea inhaled a shallow breath.

"Really, Afina, I'd rather not—"

"_I'd _like to know," she said and finally looked up from the table to Althea.

She was slow to respond, "Yes, if I remember."

"If you called that dancing, Althea Rosemary."

Her lips contorted into an uneasy smile. "We might've danced a little close."

"It was like that MTV."

Althea laughed with surprise. "How do you know about MTV, Gran?" she asked, leaning toward Gran as the old woman folded her arms. "Do you watch it?"

Gran sighed with mild irritation. "I might be old, but I'm not ignorant."

"Of course, not," she said and reclined against the back of her chair. "No, he was good—a good dancer, I mean."

Afina clicked her teeth. "Good at everything, isn't he?"

Althea's smile faltered as she felt her face flush. "Really, Afina."

Afina shrugged. "I've never heard you speak of anything he couldn't do or wasn't good at."

Althea gave Afina a warning look. "Let's not—"

"Indeed," Gran said. "I don't want to ruin my afternoon with that foul boy's exploits."

Althea sighed, "He's innocent—"

"Innocent, indeed," Gran replied, her lips thin.

Althea knew the vitriol that was about to spew from her pursed lips despite her previous declarations to the contrary.

"He never cared for your safety and deliberately endangered the lives of those around him. Disrespectful, willfully insubordinate, a menace—"

"Dogged," Afina chimed, "_very dogged_."

Althea paled, her stomach sick with betrayal at Afina's collaboration. _She's never encouraged Gran_, she thought and swallowed with some difficulty. _Don't do this to me_.

"Why?" she mouthed at Afina.

Afina looked out of the corner of her eye at Gran, who continued to describe Sirius' shortcomings, and then to Althea. "Tell her," she mouthed and sighed with disappointment when Althea faintly shook her head. "_Tell her_."

"_No_!" Althea mouthed heatedly

"The Ministry did you a favor—"

Althea hastily stood from her chair. "He's _innocent_!" she said excitedly, slamming her palm against the table. The glasses clinked and a few droplets of lemonade sloshed out of the pitcher. She trembled slightly as Gran looked on at her outburst. "He's innocent," she repeated, looking from Afina to Gran.

"And?"

Gran's reply licked at her insides. "He called for me the night I was tortured," she replied with forced calm. "He was out there—looking for me, shouting for me—as the Death Eaters cast a Silencing Charm so I couldn't shout back."

Afina gasped and Althea thought she saw a faint smile.

"_Yes_," she said, looking directly at Afina. "It was a war and my life was at risk no matter what I did. Did you forget the raids of St. Mungo's?"

Gran remained silent.

"Who helped subdue the Caretaker under the Imperius Curse?" she asked, her voice higher and her nostrils flared. "If he hadn't arrived on that awful and disgraceful motorbike there is a good chance I wouldn't be here now."

"You are a fiercely capable witch, Althea Rosemary. You give him too much credit," Gran said, sitting forward—her posture still unnaturally rigid. "You have always been so feeble about that boy—"

"Do you want me to admit that I still love him?" she asked, looking into Gran's eyes. "Do you?"

Afina inched forward in her chair.

"Is that what you want?" she pressed pointedly. "For me to admit that despite everything I still love him?"

"Only a fool—"

"You do!" she countered, pointing her index finger at Gran. "And, what does it matter?" she asked, throwing up her arms. Her arms fell back heavily at her sides. "It wouldn't make a difference to you if we were reunited now, after his name is cleared, or if all this time I was sending him letters in Azkaban. He will always be that foul, hateful, duplicitous boy that came from _that_ family, and nothing good ever came from that Dark a family," she continued and inhaled a breath. "Of which, you conveniently forget that my Prudence—_his daughter_—is descended from that family."

Afina's mouth was parted slightly.

"Right," she sighed and turned to leave.

"Would he take you back?"

Althea stopped. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. _Go to hell, old woman_, she thought as she opened her eyes.

"Would he, Althea Rosemary, take you back?"

Althea narrowed her eyes and started to walk away. "Without hesitation."

Still seething, adrenaline coursing through her veins, Althea hurriedly climbed the rocky path that overlooked the bay. _How could she do this to me_, she thought as a gust of salty wind lifted the floppy hat from her head. She walked quickly as the hat tumbled along the long, slender grass. _To put me in that position! It's as if she wanted me to tell Gran_! Althea swiftly snatched the hat, caught in the brush, and she frowned faintly at the streaks of dirt and grass stains. Looking up from her now disheveled hat, she found herself at the edge of the rocky cliffs, overlooking the clear blue-green waters of the bay. Sirius sat at the center of the pink sand beach, his knees to his chest, facing the water. _Gran will never accept you_, she thought as the tall grasses softly stroked her bare legs. _It's different now. Your family is gone. It's just you. No one can hurt us_.

"Except the Ministry," she murmured and looked out at the bay. "As long as Peter is out there."

Althea transformed and glided and swooped from the cliff—enjoying the breeze against her tiny frame—to perch gently atop Sirius's head. She felt Sirius shake quietly with laughter.

"You better be my Althea, or this will be awkward."

She craned her neck to be beak to nose with him. Sirius crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Suddenly, she felt two large, thin hands upon her body, and Sirius gently placed her next to him. She transformed once more and stretched, smiling at the pleasing sensation of warm sand against her bare legs.

Althea spotted a sand encrusted metal box before him. "What's that?"

Sirius picked up the box and sat cross-legged. "A privateer by the name of Lady Althea Morrigan buried this," he explained, narrowing his eyes with mock thoughtfulness, as he held up the box for both of them to examine.

Althea laughed with surprise as she recognized the small metal box decorated with crudely painted flowers.

"God, I must've buried these all over the island," she remarked as Sirius placed the box in her lap.

"The curses surrounding this treasure were quite simple to break," he said, handing her a piece of folded brown paper.

Althea unfolded the brown, faded paper and winced at her childish handwriting, an attempt at Early Modern English.

"As you can see, the skeletons of her ship's crew have not carried me out to sea," he said, resting his hands behind him.

"I was nine," she said and peered into the sand-filled box. "Good Lord, what did I put in here?"

Althea scooped out a handful of sand and laughed lowly as she pulled out a long beaded necklace. "That Muggle festival with the naked people."

"The what?" he asked, bemused.

Althea's eyes examined the faded plastic and wooden beads.

"My father, thought the advent of hippies would usher in a new age of understanding and cooperation between Magic and Muggle."

She remembered the horror on her father's face as he found her spinning at the center of a drum circle—her new saffron robes billowing about her—her painted face smiling up at him.

"Needless to say," she continued and placed the necklace into her lap, "my open-minded father was out of his element."

"My mother was afraid of them. We had a boggart in the cupboard," he said and began to laugh, "I'd never seen her so frightened."

Althea smiled. "I'd expect nothing less from her," she said and scooped out more sand.

Althea's further treasures reflected their importance of her nine-year-old self: a shell, a few coins from her travels, and a porcelain figurine of an elephant. _Disappointing_, she thought and sighed. _I believe I've buried at least five more of these boxes around the island_. She smiled, amused at what she could discover, and poured the remaining sand from the box. _My Animagus form should've been a squirrel_. Suddenly, something thin, gleaming, and silver was dangled before her eyes.

Althea blinked to adjust her eyes. "That was my mother's bracelet," she said in awe. "Where did you—"

He smiled as he nodded toward the box. "I found it in there."

Althea's eyes hungrily took in the bracelet before her as Sirius gently placed the delicately woven bracelet into her hands.

"I can't believe it isn't tarnished," she said and desperately wished she could remember her mother wearing that bracelet.

"It's goblin, that's why."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "I found it in my father's things," she said, as her thumb tenderly stroked the elegantly scripted _A_that dangled from it. "I had nothing."

Althea wrapped the bracelet around her left wrist and frowned when she could not clasp it. She held out her wrist for Sirius and he smiled warmly. Althea held up her wrist and gingerly shook it, watching as the silver bracelet shimmered in the sunlight.

"Thank you," she murmured and kissed his cheek.

Sirius shrugged and sniffed. He looked out to sea once more. "I was thinking of going south…Brazil."

Althea's heart sank. Sirius's expression bore defeat.

"Remus spent some time there—really enjoyed it, if I remember," she said lightly and forced a smile. "It will be good for you, I think, to spend your days on the beaches of Rio." She leaned close to him and whispered, "All those beautiful girls…you'll quickly forget that I exist."

Sirius let out a half-hearted laugh. "Likely."

Althea looked to the small space of sand between them. "There will be a time when you will be truly free, Sirius," she said and took in Sirius's expression. He remained grim. "I want you to have help."

Sirius gave her a look.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said, placing her hand on his thigh. "I want you to be happy."

"Happy?" he mouthed, his expression softened.

"Yes, she said in earnest. "I don't want you to be afraid."

* * *

Althea dimmed the lamps in the study.

"Are you sure you're comfortable?"

Sirius nodded as he looked at the sofa. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said distantly. "Thank you."

"Right," she sighed and held the blanket tighter. "Wouldn't you like this?"

"No, thank you, I'll be fine," he said and smiled half-heartedly. "Goodnight."

He lifted his hand to her cheek, but thought better of it and let it drop awkwardly to his side. Althea disregarded his apprehension and kissed his cheek. Sirius transformed and jumped onto the sofa.

"The potion should work as soon as you close your eyes," she said as Sirius stretched and yawned. She kissed the top of his head and his tail wagged happily. "Predictable," she muttered and teasingly narrowed her eyes.

Althea left the sleeping Sirius and closed the door behind her. Afina was before her, in the darkened entrance hall, with her arms folded. They had not spoken since the confrontation in the rose garden.

"Why did you do that to me?" Althea said, stepping forward.

Afina gently kicked the wooden floor with the heel of her slipper. "I reckon it's time she knows," she said quietly.

"No," she answered, vigorously shaking her head. "Gran can't—"

"You're a thirty-four-year-old woman, Auntie!" she whispered, unfolding her arms. "A grown woman who still acts as if she's sixteen!"

"You don't understand," she said, praying that Gran remained in her bedroom.

"Right, I don't," she said, stepping forward. She placed her hands on Althea's upper arms. "He loves you—always at your side—and he should be at your side in _his human form_."

Althea was silent.

"You are happy," she said, gently shaking Althea. "You deserve to be open and happy," she continued and smiled sympathetically. "Don't be a coward, tell her."

Althea slowly removed Afina's hands. "No."

Althea entered her bedroom, which evoked an odd feeling of loneliness as she looked upon her bed bathed in the moonlight. She climbed into bed and attempted to make herself comfortable, but no position or fluffing of her pillows brought her welcomed sleep. _This bed is absolutely enormous_, she thought as she lay on her back. She listened to the sounds of the tree frogs as she looked at the odd shadows cast at the foot of her bed. _Why did I ever think I needed a bed so large_? Althea sighed as she missed the heaviness next to her—the warmth. _I've gotten so used to him_. She smiled longingly at how easy it was for her to become accustomed to his presence in her bed once more. She turned onto her side and expected his arm to slide across her waist, holding her close to him—his breath warming her neck and shoulder.

"Maybe I should take a sleeping potion?" she wondered aloud, but quickly frowned.

_No, I don't want to become dependent upon them…again_, she thought as she turned to her other side. _I just hope I haven't started Sirius down that path_. Althea curled up on Sirius' side of the bed, hugging his pillow close to her. She could smell the intermingling of his soap, shampoo, and sweat. _This will do_, she thought and closed her eyes.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

******Chapter 23**

_Cruel to be kind means that I love you…  
—Nick Lowe_

Althea yelped as she awoke to a thunderous explosion that shook her bed. The portraits on the walls violently swung and fell, and the broken glass scattered across the wooden floor. Drawers opened with a _thud! _and clothes were strewn about her bedroom.

"What the—" she said, scrambling to her feet.

Althea knelt at her bedside and let out an exclamation of relief, as her wand had not rolled too far under it. Another blast—greater than the previous—shook her bedroom and she hastily clung to the bedpost as not to fall. She winced as the lamp fell behind her, loudly shattering and exploding.

"Bloody hell!" she growled and thrust her wand at her door—it flew open and hit her wall with a _bang! _"What is going on?"

Althea rushed toward the door. She heard incoherent hollering and what sounded like something crashing into her piano.

"Oh God!" she breathed as panic coursed through her veins.

She stood upon the landing and looked to her left. The door to Gran's room was open and Altheas stomach painfully twisted. She smelled the acrid smoke that was billowing from below. _Gran has found him_, she thought, tightening her grip upon her wand. _Gran will kill him, and then Gran will_—Althea gulped—her throat dry.

"Auntie!" Afina shouted. "I woke up on the—"

Althea spun to meet Afina. "Afina, no!" she shouted, holding up her hands.

"Whoa, look at that!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, pointing to entrance hall ceiling—the wrought iron chandelier violently swung. "The chandelier looks about to fall!"

"We'll worry about that later," she said shortly. "Stay here."

"No, I—"

"_Stay here_!" she warned as she quickly turned toward the staircase. "You'll only get hurt! They're dueling!"

"Dueling? Auntie, who—"

Althea did not hesitate and transformed to fly below. She ducked and swerved to avoid the curses hurling into the entrance hall through the thick, black smoke. A jet of red light soared through the air and she somersaulted midflight to avoid it—it narrowly missing her wing. Disoriented, Althea slammed into the wall and slid to the floor. _Maybe I should let them sort it out_, she thought darkly, as she—dazed—attempted to right herself.

"_PROTEGO_!" Sirius roared and laughed. "OLD WOMAN, IS THAT THE _BEST _YOU CAN DO?"

His laughter quickly became a yelp as Gran shouted one curse right after the other.

"Bloody hell," Althea muttered as she carefully inched her way closer to the study door.

"Missed…AGAIN!" he shouted and Althea groaned as she stood to the side of the doorway. "Give up!"

"Shut it!" Gran hissed and roared, "_INFLIGO_!"

Althea sighed and—with her wand held ready to duel—turned into the doorway. She gasped at the sight. A thick smoke hung in the air as its source, the curtains, continued to burn. Horrified, her eyes scanned the room: overturned and broken furniture, her bookcase splintered and the books aflame, and her beloved piano—at which her father delighted in her performances—was crushed and smoldering. Althea covered her mouth—too disgusted and too enraged to speak.

Sirius cast another defensive spell and gasped when his eyes met hers. "Get out of here!" he shouted, and growled, thrusting his arm forward in a fierce slashing motion.

Gran sneered as she swiftly blocked his curse. "Stun _me_, will you?"

"You old hag!"

"No!" Althea shouted, stepping forward. "You're not going to kill my Gran!"

Sirius's eyes widened—his face white with fury. "_ME_? SHE'S TRYING TO _KILL ME_!"

"THE KILLING CURSE IS TOO GOOD FOR YOU!" Gran roared, a jet of purple light burst from her wand.

Sirius's wand arm slashed the air, blocking her curse.

"_ENOUGH_!" Althea bellowed, pointing her wand at the pair.

Gran and Sirius stopped dueling. It was difficult to determine which face bore more hatred. Gran's eyes were unwavering in their hate. Sirius, heaving, bore a remarkable arrogance upon his face streaked with soot and blood. Althea stepped further into the room, and she cast spells to dissipate the smoke and attempted to salvage her burning curtains and books. Large, painful tears welled in her eyes as she picked up a broken frame.

"Sorry," she murmured as she mended the glass that covered her father's photograph. Her father smiled pleasantly back.

Althea placed the picture frame onto her desk and sighed heavily. _Afina is right, I am a coward_, she thought, frowning at the thick scorch marks at the edge of the desk. _I could've told her on my terms, but now—now_—

"You've ruined my home. You've destroyed it! The both of you!" she said heatedly and turned to face them.

Sirius guiltily rubbed the side of his face. Gran looked upon Althea with the utmost disgust.

"My father's things!"

Sirius opened his mouth, "She—"

"Shut it!" she demanded and held out her hand. "Give me your wands, the both of you."

They did not move.

Althea growled, "Now!"

Sirius and Gran eyed one another warily.

"Her first," he spoke, nodding toward Gran.

Gran sneered.

"I _don't_want to use my wand," Althea warned. "Gran!"

"You stupid girl," she spat, holding her wand tighter at her side. "I thought, after all these years that I was able to foster some sense in you, but yesterday, _I knew_," she continued, narrowing her eyes, "I knew like some lovesick fool you'd throw yourself at him."

Sirius's eyes widened with urgency at Althea. Althea faintly shook her head. She would not forcefully disarm her grandmother. Gran was immensely powerful, and Althea—no matter her current feelings—would never draw herself into a duel with her.

Gran looked upon Sirius and made a noise of disgust. "They're all alike," she began, the words seeming to taste sour upon her lips. "Charming, manipulative, tells you that he loves you—"

Sirius's eyes gleamed with spite. "You'd know that _very well_, wouldn't you?"

Gran spun with furious grace—her wand pointed at Sirius's throat. The two eyed each other with the utmost hatred. Althea took a step forward.

"One more step, you stupid girl, and I will kill him," Gran said, her wand steady.

"Come on, curse me, old woman," Sirius demanded, his lips curved into insolent smile. "Haven't you waited for this moment for over _seventy years_?"

Althea frowned. "Seventy years?"

"Quiet!"

Sirius started to laugh. It was not his normal bark-like, jovial laughter, but a sinister laughter—a knowing laughter—that Althea thought, might've been heard on that street almost thirteen years ago. Gran thrust her wand underneath his jaw—causing him to lift his chin.

"Seventy years? What are you getting at?"

Sirius's insolence momentarily faded as he looked at Althea. "I thought you knew—"

"Knew what?"

"Althea Rosemary, _please_!" Gran warned—her voice wavering—her eyes showing terror. "I beg you to quiet!"

Gran stood before Althea, trembling and pale. Her once steady hand continued to bob slightly, which appeared to be quite uncomfortable for Sirius as he could not fully swallow or breathe deeply. Her hair was wild and rested at the middle of her back. The white and silver strands glinted in the sunlight.

"When you discovered that I was sent to Azkaban, you must've thought it a blessing…thought it was over—"

"God, be _quiet_!" Gran croaked and thrust her wand upward.

Sirius extended his neck. "Thought I knew all along, didn't you?"

Gran did not realize Althea had taken another step forward. _Did Gran know_, she thought, raising an eyebrow. _Did she knowingly, purposefully send him to Azkaban_? Althea's wand arm fell heavily to her side and she covered her mouth at Gran's cruelty. _I heard him the night I was tortured. He was the one that alerted the Order. He would've gone to Gran to see if I was there. Gran—Gran knew. Gran kept him from me—they all kept him from me_. Althea shook with rage and sparks burst from her wand as she eyed Gran. _Why would she betray me so_?

"No, I just knew you as warning," he said—his demeanor one of arrogant contempt. "The 'indiscretion of youth'—_a phase_, really—we're allowed to have one, but nothing is to come of it—"

Indiscretion of youth? A phase? Althea's head jerked back. Her mind quickly returned to the confrontation with Mrs. Black in Diagon Alley. When Mrs. Black, horrified her eldest son would date a girl she deemed of lesser blood, sought to buy Althea with a bag of Galleons and verbally degraded her as she did so. _His grandfather said that I was a phase_.

"A phase," she murmured as she looked into Sirius's eyes.

Sirius nodded slightly.

"Do not speak of things which you know _nothing_ about!" Gran warned. "You're _just _as hateful—"

She had seen those eyes before—in Prudence, in…Althea gasped.

"I AM NOT MY GRANDFATHER!" Sirius roared, his face contorted and purple.

"_YOU_!" Althea exclaimed, breathless, her wand slicing through the air.

Gran yelped as her wand was ripped from hand. Her wand spun loudly in the air and destroyed the remainder of the vase of roses upon her father's desk. Water and rose petals erupted and fell to the floor. _All these years_, she thought as she unwaveringly pointed her wand directly at Gran. The three stood in quiet. The old woman, her eyes bright with tears, cradled her hand. Sirius relaxed and rested the back of his head against the wall between the windows. He looked upon Althea with relief and exhaustion. Althea ignored his gratitude. Rage coursed through Althea like an electrical current, which caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. The creak of the floorboard broke the silence. Althea, in her peripheral vision, saw that Afina had entered the room. Her mouth open, she looked upon the trio with stunned horror.

"Did you take the money?" bitterly yelled Althea. "Did his mother throw a bag of Galleons at your feet and did your greedy black heart take it?"

Gran, silent, covered her face with her trembling hand.

"You disgust me," she sneered and lowered her wand.

Sirius's lips upturned into an arrogant smirk.

"I have sat through every lecture. I have listened to every venomous word you've uttered from your self-righteous mouth against him. It was tiresome," she said, rubbing her forehead. She allowed her lips to curve into a small, cruel smile. Althea felt emboldened by this rage. "What would you like to say to me now, hmm? What lecture could you possible give me today? Come out with it!"

Gran sniffed.

"HOW DARE YOU?" she roared, her neck straining with every word, her hands balled into fists. "How dare you treat me, _your blood_, as you have for the last twenty years?"

"I did it to protect you—"

"You degraded me—kept things from me—"

"And have you been honest?" she whispered.

"He knows _everything_," she said through gritted teeth.

Gran's knees buckled.

"Scares you, doesn't it?" she remarked and nodded toward Sirius. "Us, back together. I reckon you're_delighted_that those Death Eaters and that foul Healer-in-Training cursed me."

Sirius folded his arms as he leaned against the wall. "It was a shock to know _my_ Althea was alive after your overwhelming display, old woman, but even more of a shock to know _Prudence could've survived that torture_," he said, his last words boring into Gran. He grinned, as he roguishly looked Althea up and down. "I think I'll manage."

"Oh, but this is bloody brilliant!" she said, enjoying how every word of retribution tasted on her lips. "I've just discovered my Gran," she continued and laughed spitefully as she pointed to her chest, "_my_ Gran—the most upstanding and _prudish_ of Magical Matrons—_fucked_ Sirius's grandfather _and_had his bastard son—"

Afina squeaked.

"_What_?" Sirius breathed and he stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked to Althea.

Althea nodded. "Your mum told me that Prudence had your father's eyes."

Sirius shook his head and laughed as he walked to Althea's side.

Althea held up her hand for Sirius to quiet. "Old woman, it's striking how much Prudence resembles George, isn't it?"

Gran weakly murmured, "Althea Rosemary."

"Imagine if George knew—"

Gran covered her face. "Althea Rosemary, _please_—"

"God, he'd hate you as much as I do now, wouldn't he?"

Gran let out a sorrowful moan.

"He wouldn't have waited for the Luftwaffe to off him!"

"He did know."

"_What_?" Althea and Sirius asked in unison.

"He did know," Gran said louder, uncovering her face. "He knew everything."

Althea looked up at the ceiling. "Bloody hell, old woman," she groaned and sighed. "How many more _lies_?"

She felt Sirius's hands upon her upper arms. "I reckon we deserve an explanation," he whispered into her ear.

Althea quickly turned the side of her face toward him. "You already knew—"

"No, I didn't," he whispered as the palms of his hands massaged her upper arms. "I didn't know about—"

"How did you know about Gran and your grandfather, then?"

Sirius tenderly squeezed Althea's arms and kissed her bare shoulder.

Gran winced.

"Would you like to tell her, or shall I?"

Gran remained quiet.

"_Azkaban_," he explained and let his hands fall from Althea.

He casually stepped forward and Althea realized he was in nothing more than his pajama bottoms. She looked to her own frame and frowned at the sheer delicate nightgown.

"As she berated me with lies about murdering you _and_ our daughter, she let slip that—she too—enjoyed the forbidden fruit of a supposedly Dark Wizard, my grandfather…. God," he said and laughed with disbelief, "my grandfather? _My grandfather_? He was the worst out of all of them. That man was incapable of a warm feeling towards anybody."

"No," Gran murmured.

"_Yes_," Sirius said and looked toward Althea, shaking his head in disbelief. "The day after my brother's funeral, he requested my presence at Dunwell just to tell me that it should have been _me_that died," he said and stepped closer to Gran. "He heard from my dear mother what Althea and I had done, and—obviously overcome with regret and wanting to right things—he personally petitioned the Ministry to enforce a law that hadn't been enforced since the eighteenth century. Althea, my love, don't you remember?"

"How could I forget?" she said, folding her arms. "I was threatened with Azkaban."

"As was I," he said and bit the inside of his cheek. "You'd think the Ministry would've remembered that a year later."

"Magical Law Enforcement is pretty thick," Althea remarked.

"My grandfather," he breathed and Althea knew he relished every moment. Sirius shook his head knowingly. "He had no love for me—he had no love for anybody."

"That's not true. He was poisoned."

"Making excuses?" Sirius said and held up his hands. "Well then, let's hear them!" He smiled at Althea. "My love, I reckon we should sit for this."

"You both destroyed my furniture," she said, frowning at the torn sofa—the yellow foam visible.

She looked up from her damaged sofa to Afina, who stood behind it. _You wanted me to tell_, she thought as Afina nervously tapped her fingers against the top of the sofa. Sirius bit the inside of his cheek and pointed his wand at the sofa. The yellow foam slowly wobbled and jiggled as it shrunk back into the torn cushion. _We weren't expecting this_.

"Thank you," she murmured as she sat upon the newly repaired sofa.

"You're welcome," he replied, taking her hand in his. "Right, old woman, what do you have to say?"

Althea held up her hand. "Afina," she said, twisting to face her, "are you—"

"I want to hear this," she interrupted, resting her hands against the back of the sofa. "I've got just as much right to—"

Althea nodded. "You do, darling," she said and smiled thoughtfully.

_She's lied to you as well_, she thought, returning her gaze to her grandmother. Gran, solemn and defeated, mended a chair leg. _She would've died before telling us_. Althea knew what it was to have secrets—rather large secrets—and the desperation one felt in deception. _I couldn't continue to lie to Sirius_, she thought wrinkling her brow as Gran righted the mended chair. _I love him too much to let him believe a lie_. Did Gran love Althea as much? Was keeping up such appearances out of love for Althea or shame? That Gran carried such a damning secret and kept it so despite the apparent mimicry in Althea's life was disheartening. Did Arcturus carry such contempt? He had called Althea a phase—dismissed her, really. A fling. Althea placed her hand upon her abdomen, where for nine months Prudence was nurtured. One would never have considered what she had with Sirius as momentary or insignificant. Had Arcturus dismissed Gran, so?

Gran sat rigidly upon the chair, her hands folded upon her lap, and her eyes transfixed upon her clasped hands. Despite the rage and bitterness, Althea felt a tiny, piercing feeling of sympathy in her chest. _He must've done something unthinkable_, she thought as Gran's expression displayed dread, _for her never to see how different Sirius was from his family_.

"It just wasn't done," murmured Gran, sadly shaking her head. "At the time, it was the height of the purity movement, and the Rynnes just did not associate with the Blacks," she continued and looked to Sirius. "Your family was at the height of its power…it owned the Ministry, and at one time, Hogwarts."

Sirius crossed his arms as he looked upon Gran with the utmost contempt.

Gran sighed sadly. "I was seventeen and in my seventh year when we began to date."

Althea shifted uncomfortably upon the sofa as she realized her grandmother having any romantic feelings upset her. As she studied her grandmother, who sat before them wearing her elegant and modest teal dressing gown, she could not imagine her grandmother lovesick for anyone or full of passion. Althea sneered as she briefly entertained the thought that her grandmother might have enjoyed sex. She glanced at Sirius and shivered.

"He wanted to rebel and I—like you, Althea Rosemary—found it exciting to defy all good sense."

Althea massaged her temple. "Oh God," she whispered.

Her eyes widened at the thought of a giggling Gran sneaking around Hogwarts and meeting Sirius's grandfather in a late night tryst. Would he have coaxed her out her dormitory window with promises of Quidditch? Did he take her to the Hogwarts roof to look upon the night sky? Was the favorite lake spot of Althea and Sirius theirs as well? She thought of the young Slytherin and Gryffindor stealing away during Hogsmeade weekends to the fields around the village. In the exhilaration they felt in those brief hours alone before they must return to their respective Houses. They would've positioned themselves to be in each other's line of sight at the House tables.

"We grew to have a deep affection for one another that continued after school ended," she said and looked knowingly upon the couple. "It would have been a tremendous scandal if our relationship were made known; therefore, we met in secret and continued on the paths set forth by our families."

Althea frowned. _I did so as well_. The young couple had kept secret their relationship from Gran until her seventeenth birthday. _I was of age and it didn't matter anymore_, she thought, resting her hand atop Sirius's arm. _You thought him appropriate and kind—the sort of boy I should date. We were so confident that you saw his goodness that we told you…. It never mattered. You never saw him as he was and now I understand why_. Sirius uncrossed his arms and the couple sat, arm in arm. _You never saw us as we were…as we are…you only see your own failure_.

"So caught up in our recklessness…. Our families discovered—"

Sirius let out a mocking gasp. Althea nudged him.

Gran looked pained as she continued, "My father was horrified. He championed the rights of Muggles to exist, and I—I dated a boy from a family that wanted to hunt them."

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Althea shook her head. It seemed cathartic for Gran to speak of such things. For seventy years, she kept her secret, and at times—Althea knew—it was difficult for her to do so, but that fear and its overwhelming, paralyzing power kept her in check.

"My father locked me in a cupboard when I made the dire mistake of sobbing that I loved him," she said, wrinkling her brow. "The house-elf heard my weeping and took pity upon me—I coaxed her to open the door. I took what little money I had and escaped."

Sirius snorted derisively and Althea elbowed him.

"You ran away?" Afina said, stunned.

Gran nodded. "I was to meet him at the station in the morning and we were to elope. I waited all day and into the night, but he never came…. I had not counted on that he loved the power and wealth of his family more than me." Gran looked to her hands and grimaced as she continued, "I could not go home as I was a disgrace. I had lost everything…my family, my inheritance…I was disowned."

Sirius said, "Sounds familiar."

Gran did not acknowledge his remark. "I met your Grand in that railway station," she said and fiddled with her diamond wedding band. "He was to meet an expedition to explore the Valley of the Kings…and I pretended myself an Egyptologist."

"You ran away to Egypt?" Althea asked with disbelief.

Gran nodded. "We were married in Luxor."

Althea let go of Sirius and leaned forward. "You never loved my grandfather?"

Gran shook her head. "We grew to have a strong, mutual affection. Nothing was secret, and when his mother wrote to him that such a marriage unwise, he promptly wrote her that we were already married. It was a matter of pride, then," she said, letting a small, knowing smile escape. "I loved him very much, Althea Rosemary—"

"What about George?" she pressed.

Gran looked as if her stomach turned sour—she hesitated. "Arcturus followed me to Egypt, taking a job as a Curse-Breaker. He learned that I was to be married to a Muggle—a Muggle from a family that thought so highly of themselves to have a title," she said and Gran's expression turned dark. "He manipulated my heart, and once more, I entertained the thought of elopement. It was too late when I realized…when I realized my mistake and I left him."

"How could you do that to Grand?" she asked, the bile rising in her throat.

Gran refused to look at Althea. "I was horrified at my weakness. I prayed that the child was your grandfather's, but when George was born, I knew."

Althea found it difficult to hide her disgust. "Did Grand know?"

Gran shook her head. "He would have been devastated to know," she said and bit her bottom lip. "He was utterly besotted with his sons."

Althea massaged her temples. "How did George discover?"

"At Hogwarts."

Althea's eyes widened. "Hogwarts?" she breathed sharply. "But you took that potion—"

"I was desperate and trusted a charlatan," she said and sighed regretfully. "George received his letter and was sorted into Slytherin—"

Sirius laughed darkly.

Althea cast a warning look at Sirius, but he shrugged and continued to laugh.

"It was to bring about the end," she continued, her eyes bright with tears. "He was the first in the family to be sorted. A Muggle-born wizard in Slytherin? It just didn't happen—not at that time. He learned quickly that something about him was different."

"Of course," Sirius agreed with mock thoughtfulness.

"He loved his father, but he never saw eye to eye with him. Alexander believed it to be the curse of the first born for his brother argued with their father—"

"And you encouraged that idea, of course," she conjectured and rubbed her forehead. "My father knew?"

Gran shook her head. "Your father went to his grave in the belief he was Muggle-born."

Althea howled with repulsion.

"Danny was quiet and much the academic like his father, which enraged George as he felt he was never good enough. Of course, it wasn't true, but that boy craved attention—"

Sirius sighed loudly.

Gran cast Sirius a dark look. "George was surrounded by members of the Black family while in Slytherin…and he began to notice certain similarities. It was confirmed for him after he saw a photograph of Arcturus in the _Daily Prophet_. He kept it secret for years, until I found the article and the photograph in his school things…but I was too late. He had already confronted Arcturus at Dunwell and was sent away. He believed that I put George up to it to steal his fortune…it broke his heart."

"Now that sounds like my grandfather."

"Did Arcturus ever confront you?"

Gran nodded and said in a strained voice, "Not until many years later."

"And _this_is why you didn't want me to date Sirius?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Because you had an image to maintain?"

"No," Gran answered, with some annoyance. "I knew he would take advantage of you. You had just lost your father—"

"You never gave him a chance," she said, slapping her hand against her knee. "He left his family—"

"He could never be rid of them, Althea Rosemary. I know you are keenly aware of that," she said, her eyes piercing Althea. "I wanted to protect you, but you blindly followed him, blindly followed a boy that disregarded your safety and sought out your deaths—"

Sirius inhaled to speak.

"Enough," Althea said, holding up her hands. "He is the father of my child and I will not have you degrade his character—"

"He is an escaped convict—"

"As am I, or have you forgotten?" she reminded, cocking her head to the side. "Clearly not, because you threaten to send me back at least once a year when I disappoint you," she continued, unable to suppress her smile. "And I've _really_disappointed you this time."

"There will be no Azkaban," Gran said, looking from Althea to Sirius, "for either of you."

Sirius placed his hand upon the small of Althea's back. "What do you want?"

Gran shrewdly pursed her lips. "I must speak with Sirius," she said and sat up straighter upon her chair.

"Of course, you do," he said and bit the inside of his cheek.

"It concerns a matter of great importance," she continued, disregarding Sirius's impudence. "It will require us to discuss this matter privately."

Althea folded her arms. "I'd rather stay."

"You cannot stay, Althea Rosemary," she said and swallowed. "I shan't harm him."

"You haven't proven to me otherwise," she said, stiffening.

"Althea Rosemary, please," she said with forced calm. "I must speak with him, alone. It is an ancient matter."

Althea shook her head and sank into the couch.

"I'd rather Althea stay," he said, stroking her bare thigh. "What you say to me, you can say to her as well."

Gran inhaled. "In due time," she said and looked over Althea. "Afina?"

"Come on, Auntie," Afina coaxed, resting her palm upon Althea's shoulder.

"Leave Afina out of this," she said.

Afina leaned close to Althea. "Auntie, please," she said and, barely audible, continued, "we can listen at the door."

"I'd rather—"

"_Please_," Afina whispered.

Althea sighed dejectedly as she looked from Gran to Sirius. "Right."

"I'll be all right," he reassured with a forced smile.

Althea reluctantly stood and followed Afina into the entrance hall. Upon exiting, the door immediately slammed shut and the two women jumped slightly.

"Can you hear anything?" Afina whispered, leaning her ear against the door.

Althea shook her head. "No, must've used a Silencing Charm," she said and sighed disappointedly.

Afina groaned with disappointment as she lifted herself from the door. "I want to hear it!" she lamented, throwing her head back as she walked toward the staircase. Afina roughly sat upon the staircase and wrinkled her nose at the study door. "What could Gran have to say to him?"

Althea shrugged as she sat next to her. "I haven't a clue," she answered, anxious for Sirius's safety. "It was an 'ancient matter'—whatever that means."

"Yeah," Afina murmured, resting her chin upon her hands.

"Bloody hell," she sighed and shook her head at the door. "If that old woman had just told me that my uncle came from a family that thought it brilliant to torture people to the point of madness and chop off the heads off useless house-elves, I might've understood."

Afina laughed lowly. "No, you wouldn't."

Althea's lips quivered as she fought a smile. "True," she said, reclining upon the stairs. "Gran with Arcturus? My own grandmother? Oh, what a fucking laugh!"

"I never would've expected it from Gran."

"I should've realized. How stupid could I have been?" she wondered, and slammed her fist against the step. "She tried to tell me when I was fifteen!"

"What?" Afina asked, sitting up. "What happened?"

"I was accosted by Mrs. Black in Diagon Alley," she began to explain as her nightgown slipped off her shoulder. "She offered me a purse of Galleons to stay away from her son—"

Afina gasped, "_No_—"

Althea let out a noise of frustration as she adjusted her nightgown. "Mrs. Black knew who I was—_she_had to have known! It was so volatile—I thought she and Gran would duel in the street," she said, narrowing her eyes. "When we returned to Northfield, Gran told me about his family, but I thought she knew because she was a witch and not because she was intimately involved with his grandfather!"

"She did it to keep you safe—"

Althea laughed spitefully. "She did it to preserve her secret," she corrected. "It would've been horribly shocking if it came out in the open that a Black had a bastard child with a blood traitor…especially _one still in the family_…the patriarch."

Afina looked puzzled.

"Anyone that was born a Squib, associated with Muggle-borns, or anyone who fancied anything the least bit Muggle, were disinherited."

"You're joking."

Althea shook her head. "It was worse with the war. Sirius's cousin discovered the Cruciatus Curse and made it her mission the summer before our sixth year to rid him of his Muggle predilections," she replied and Afina covered her mouth. "Their husbands tried to recruit him to join Voldemort that summer. They reassured him that Voldemort was willing to overlook his little indiscretion."

"And you stayed with him?"

Althea looked upon Afina thoughtfully. "You have to understand, Afina, I would've been killed anyway," she explained, sitting up. "If I were to go, at least I wanted a bit of fun."

Afina made a face. "Sirius was disinherited?"

Althea nodded. "After he ran away," she said, and screwed up her eyes in thought. "His cousin, as well. She married a Muggle-born wizard."

Afina was open-mouthed. "So, there were more?"

"Yes," she said plainly. "I'll never forget when he told me of his uncle's death. His uncle left him a bit of gold, and he was disowned, too…disowned in death."

Afina shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered, shifting upon the step.

"It is, isn't it?" she replied and arched her back. "Always pruning the family tree."

She moaned softly at the pleasant sensation of her muscles stretching. _I slept so uncomfortably last night_, she thought as she massaged the back of her neck. _I never had the chance to ask Sirius if the potion helped_.

Afina quietly cleared her throat. "Auntie," she began, her index finger stroking the step, "were you…were you in Azkaban?"

Althea covered her face. She had forgotten. In her zeal, as she reveled in Gran's demise, she accidently let slip that she, too, was imprisoned in Azkaban. _What is the use of lying_, she thought and lowered her hands. Althea nodded.

"Oh."

Althea sighed and looked ahead of her as she spoke, "The Death Eaters that tortured me never went to Azkaban. They never spent a day in Azkaban for what they did to me, or the other pregnant witches they tortured and murdered."

"God," Afina breathed.

She looked to her hands and furrowed her brow. "All were either half-blood or Muggle-born and pregnant with a pure-blood's baby," she explained, remembering how the knife felt as she held it to Phaedra Burke's neck. "Tortured to madness—the lucky ones were killed outright," she continued, feeling herself retreat within. "I was to receive special treatment—"

"Justified," Afina said, grasping Althea's hand. Afina tenderly pressed it. She sniffed and nodded toward the closed door, "I don't see smoke."

Althea nodded in agreement. "Yes, that is a very good sign."

Suddenly, the door flung open and the two women jolted upright. Sirius, pale, stepped into the hallway and did not acknowledge the two women as he hastily walked by them. His expression was furious. Althea stood.

"Sirius?"

Sirius stopped and sighed.

Althea left the staircase and made her way toward him. "My love, what happened?"

"Althea Rosemary!" Gran called.

Althea sighed.

"Go to her," he said through gritted teeth.

"No, I—"

"Althea Rosemary!"

"Go!" he growled, his fists clenched—red sparks shot from his wand.

Althea closed her eyes as she heard Sirius's deliberate and angry footsteps exit the entrance hall. _What could she possibly say to me_, she thought and opened her eyes. Althea ignored Gran's third plea and followed the sound of Sirius's footsteps into the ballroom. Thin beams of sunlight pierced through the tall wooden shutters that encompassed the vast room, highlighting the particles of dust and moisture that hung in the air. Althea's quick footsteps echoed across the floor as she made her way to the large doors overlooking the flower garden. _Did she admit her guilt_, she wondered and squinted in the bright sunlight. _Most likely, not_.

The humidity hung thick in the air and accentuated the sweet fragrance of the orange jasmine as she passed the shrubs with the dark green leaves and small, delicate white flowers. Its oppressive presence created a thin layer of moisture upon her skin—her filmy nightgown clung to her body with every movement. The birds continued their morning cacophony as Sirius growled in the distance.

"Sirius?" she called out, quickening her footsteps.

Sirius stopped. "She—" he began and growled.

"My love, what happened?" she asked, placing her hand upon his bicep.

Sirius relaxed, his countenance softened—he tenderly placed his hand atop hers. He sighed forlornly.

"I must leave soon."

"I know—"

Sirius turned to face her—his expression pained. "I have to," he said, taking her hands in his. His gaze drifted to their clasped hands. "I—I'm sorry."

"Brazil?"

Sirius reluctantly shook his head. "England," he sighed.

"No!" she said, pushing herself away from him. Her eyes were wide. "You can't—you can't go back there!"

"I have to," he said quietly and paused—choosing his words carefully, "I have business to attend to."

"Let me—"

"I can't let you," he countered, shaking his head.

"Nonsense!" she replied, staring into his dulled grey eyes. "Whatever it is—I don't care—I will do it. You can't go back there."

Sirius lifted his hands to place them upon her arms, but thought better of it and awkwardly jerked them away. Instead, he ran his left hand through his hair.

"What I have to do…you can't do this," he said, not looking at her.

"What do you have to do?"

Sirius was reluctant.

"What do you have to do?" she asked, her fingers gently coaxing his face toward hers. Sirius refused to look at her.

"It's nothing really—"

"Then let me—"

"No!" he insisted, placing his arms upon her shoulders. "Only I can do this."

Althea frowned.

Sirius tenderly squeezed her shoulders. "Please, my love, understand," he begged, his eyes scanning her face, "this is for you…for Prudence."

"Are you turning yourself in?" she asked, placing her hands upon his naked chest. "What did Gran say to you?"

Sirius vigorously shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing like that," he began and bit his bottom lip as he hesitated, "there was a promise made and I have to fulfill it. That's all."

"And you'll risk capture for this?" she asked, stepping back.

Sirius's hands slipped to her upper arms. "I'll be safe," he said, his thumbs stroking her skin. "I swear to you, I'll be safe."

Althea took a shaky breath. "When will you leave?"

"At the weekend."

"When will you return? You will return?"

Sirius smiled sheepishly.

"I'm going with you," she replied resolutely.

"What?" he laughed with mild awkwardness. "You, ride Buckbeak?"

Althea wrinkled her nose. "Is that how you'll travel?"

"I can't leave him here, can I?" he remarked and smiled teasingly. "You wouldn't feed him." He winked.

Althea frowned. "Where will you stay?"

Sirius shrugged.

Althea pushed herself away and covered her face with her hand. "I don't like this. The Ministry—"

"Won't be able to find me," he said and slipped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close to him and whispered, his hot breath against her cheek, "Please, my love, you'll understand soon, I promise you."

Althea could not rid herself of the foreboding feeling that began to consume her. She nuzzled her face against his neck and closed her eyes to suppress her tears. She inhaled deeply the spicy scent of his soap that lingered upon his warm, damp skin. _Why do I feel as though I won't have another moment like this_, she wondered as Sirius murmured his assurances of his safety. _God help Gran if this is a trap_.

"You will see our Prudence at the Welcoming Feast—"

"I love you," she blurted out, holding him tighter.

Sirius laughed quietly, which shook her slightly. "I love you, too."

* * *

Althea, alone, stood with her hands upon the railing of the widow's walk. _At least we will have these last few days alone_, she thought, looking out to sea. Gran hastily left that afternoon to no goodbyes or well wishes for a safe travel. _She could fall off her broom into the Atlantic for all I care_. Afina would leave the next morning for London. _Maybe I'm not so awful after all_—she smiled to herself—_Afina turned out wonderfully_. And yet, Althea should be happy at the freedom and the remaining days with Sirius, but she was overcome with apprehension. _Why would he risk capture? What could be so important that he'd risk everything for us_, she wondered as her stomach twisted upon itself. She felt Sirius rest his hand atop hers. He inhaled deeply and sighed.

"I'll be all right."

Althea was quiet.

"I'd forgotten how beautiful this was," he said and tenderly pressed her hand. "Thank you."

Althea did not remove her gaze from the horizon as she spoke, "I want more evenings such as this."

"As do I," he said and brought the back of her hand to his lips.

A strange and unseasonably cool wind blew thick black ringlets into her eyes. She gently swept them away, but the breeze lingered—she shivered. He let go of her hand and stepped behind her. She smiled as his warm hands traveled the length of her arms in an attempt to warm them.

"We will be back," he whispered and kissed her bare shoulder. "I promise you."

"Next summer?" she asked, allowing herself to rest against him.

"Yes," he murmured, embracing her, "or sooner."

Althea, her eyes half open, noticed the darkened encroaching sky.

"Whoa," Sirius breathed as lightning streaked across the black clouds in the distance. "Nasty storm."

"Indeed."

Sirius released Althea, which woke her from her drowsy state. "Come on," he said, smiling mischievously as he took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. "Afina is begging for more Hogwarts stories."

"Oh, I think she has a very good idea of what teenage boys do with an Invisibility Cloak and a map of Hogwarts."

Sirius smiled crookedly. "Only with you, love," he said and winked as he fiercely kissed her hand. "Only with you."

Althea's lips curved into a smile. "As it should be."

* * *

_**THE END**_

* * *

**AN**:

Thank you so much for reading this story. If you found it just recently or all those years ago, thank you. Thank you for putting up with all my erratic updates and years later edits. Thank you for all your criticisms, comments, messages, and reviews. I hope you've had some enjoyment from the story.

**_Beneath a Clear Blue Sky_** is the third story in this story arc. Is it possible to undo twelve years in seven days? Sirius and Althea are always up for a challenge.

Again, thank you!


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